Unbound Memories
by Yosei Ranbu
Summary: Robin remembers everything: His father, his fate, and from where the hatred burning in Lucina's gaze comes from.
1. Flames on the Blue

Lucina stared out at the tumultuous sea, the smell of burnt flesh still lingering in the salty air. Bits of charred wreckage bobbed up and down in the rough waves; the smoke that clogged the sky made it difficult to discern, but it seemed that a storm was brewing. Lucina paid little mind to that though; her thoughts lingered on the innumerable dead their clash with the Valmese navy had produced. How many men had died today? How many people had lost their fathers? Their husbands? Their sons?

"Beg pardon, Princess. Might I have a word?"

Lucina sighed, and turned to face the person she least wanted to see at this moment: Her father's murderer, Robin.

"Is this a bad time?" he asked in response to her glare.

Lucina considered firing back the same question at him; his face was haggard, he had bags under his eyes, and he hadn't bothered to shave the stubble growing on his chin. It was natural, though, given the weight he must currently be feeling for enacting a plan that had killed so many in such a merciless way.

She blinked. _Wait, that's not right. Something like that couldn't possibly bother someone like him. Not given what he will go on to do._

"Say what you wish," she said tensely.

He looked away, as if trying to decide how to phrase what he was about to say. This was unusual; generally, Robin knew whatever he was going to say long before he did so. "Did... Did I do ever something like this?" he asked, gesturing to the sea. "In your time, I mean."

Lucina wanted to scream. She wanted to throttle him. _This is nothing compared to what you did!_

Instead, she controlled herself. "Nothing quite like this," she said in a measured tone. "You enacted many clever traps against the Valmese forces, but in my time you fought them ten years from now, in Ylisse, and did not have the means to execute a plan like this."

"...I see," Robin said quietly, going to place his hands on the railings as he looked out at the water. His back was completely exposed to her.

"I had hoped that the other me had experienced something similar, and that he had arrived at an answer that could justify what I did today. I had hoped that you could aid me with this."

Lucina said nothing.

Robin sighed, then turned to face her. "Lucina, why haven't you tried to kill me yet?"

Her heart leapt into her throat. "Wh-what?! I-I would never-"

"Drop the act. You've wanted me dead since the moment you arrived in this time."

Lucina was now actively forcing down a panic. She had known Robin was a cunning man, and had been as cautious as she could both in her interactions with him and in her observations of him. She had accepted that it would be impossible to hide her intentions from Robin completely, but she was not in the slightest prepared for a confrontation with him.

"How can you make such a claim?"

"It's simple. In your time, I murdered Chrom."

Lucina stared at him for a brief moment, then drew Falchion before she could even process a thought.

"Don't," he warned calmly.

She paused, becoming aware of what she was about to do. She struggled to reign herself in, realizing that Robin was already perfectly positioned in the event that he was forced to fight her.

"You can't beat me," Robin continued, unperturbed. "You're not strong enough. Kjelle is nearly your equal, and I'm sure you saw what happened when she challenged me. And I am far, far more intimate with your fighting style than hers. So I would suggest listening to what I have to say." He smiled a bit sadly. "Besides, think of how sad Chrom would be."

" _You-_ " she hissed.

Robin held his hand up, cutting her off. "Peace. Though I'm sure you'll reject these words, Chrom is my most important friend. My _only_ friend. I want him to live just as much as you do." He looked at her with a sidelong glance. "Also, my killing of Chrom in your time was just a hypothesis. Your reaction cleanly proves it, though."

She glared at him, gaze full of hatred. "How did you come to suspect such a thing?"

"I have a recurring nightmare. The same scene plays out in my dreams over and over again. Chrom and I fight Validar at the Dragon's Table. We defeat him. But in his death throes, he launches a final attack at Chrom. I push Chrom out of the way, and take the attack in his stead. Validar somehow possesses me, and using my hands, strikes down Chrom."

Lucina bit down hard on her lip, nearly drawing blood.

"Lucina," he continued. "Did you never think it strange that I woke up in that field the very same day you arrived in this time? I still don't know what caused me to lose my memories, but I suspect it's somehow connected to you. And likewise, so is this premonition."

Her grip tightened audibly on Falchion's hilt.

"I believe that the me of your time did not kill Chrom out of his own free will."

"Do not think that you can trick me!" Lucina spat.

Robin held up his hand once more. "Allow me to explain. Just give me the chance. After all, the reason you haven't killed me yet is because you wanted to give me a chance, right?"

Lucina stepped back, shocked.

Robin had to suppress a grin. "Ah, it would seem another hypothesis has been confirmed. The other Robin was always in full possession of his memories."

Lucina couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Wh-what?!"

"Am I wrong?"

"...You are not. As best as I can deduce, the Robin of my time never had amnesia, and initially approached my father as an ex-Plegian."

"As I thought," he nodded. "Why else would you spare my life? It should have been easy to kill me that first night, when I was still new to the world and couldn't possibly defend myself. Killing me then would've been tantamount to both saving your father and the world in your eyes." He looked back up at her. "Yet you didn't. You allowed countless opportunities to slip through your fingers. And why? That's the question I keep circling back to, the one I have no answer for. Why spare me, when you know what I will go on to do? Perhaps you remember me as some doting uncle? Could it be that some latent affection for that man was what saved me?"

Lucina grimaced. Indeed, she had been fond of her "Uncle" Robin for the short time that she had known him. He had always been a quiet and furtive man, but the way he and her father had acted together, like true and genuine brothers, had given the little Lucina no doubt that the man belong alongside their family in Castle Ylisstol. She could remember the books he was constantly reading, she could remember his blunt but not unkind answers to her questions about the world, but the things that Lucina remembered most about him were his eyes, soft and sad.

It had made her hate him all the more, once she had learned the truth, once Lissa had confessed the revelation left behind by a dying Sir Frederick, the sole witness to Chrom's death. It had caused her rage to burn, to think that it had all been an act, that Robin had deceived them all so that he might commit a most unforgivable sin.

Before making her journey, she had hardened her heart. For the good of the world, for the sake of her father, that man who had been like family would die. But what her heart was not prepared for was finding a young Robin devoid of memory, a completely blank slate. She had been ready to murder a murderer, but was that what Robin would really become now? Surely, she had felt, with her father's guidance, _this_ Robin could be kept off such a path. And so, she parted ways with them, before the experience of being in her now-living father's presence overwhelmed her rationality and forced her to do something rash.

Many times, she had questioned her decision. Many times, she had felt the nagging urge to run Robin through while his back was turned, to then flee into the night so that her father would never understand what had happened. Lucina could not say with certainty that Robin was a good man. He was callous, and he came to keep his distance from anyone other than Chrom as time went on. But he had kept all of the Shepherds alive so far, something the Robin of her time had failed to do by this point. Because of him, the parents of her friends lived still, and he had yet to exhibit any displays that made her be suspicious of him being a Grimleal. And without question, his loyalty to Chrom was unshakable, no matter what angle she looked at it from. And so, on her orders, the other time traveling children, with the lone exception of Kjelle, had held off on attempts at assassinating Robin.

"...Why do you think that the other you did not kill my father?" she asked after some time.

He shook his head. "No, I'm certain that he did. It's just that he was possessed when he did. But to answer your question, I think the other Robin must have been a lot like me. And if he was then, I would hazard a guess that Chrom was the only person he was close to."

"And what makes you say that?"

He smiled forlornly. "I... I don't allow myself to get close to others easily. I think I finally understand why that is, but..." He waved his hand. "Never mind. That's not important. My point is, the Robin of your time was without question loyal to Ylisse."

Lucina raised an eyebrow. "What are you saying?"

"Think about it. Why would a Grimleal side with Ylisse against Plegia?" A hint of maliciousness gleamed in his eyes. "Do you have any, _any_ idea how easily I could have crushed Ylisse? And that would have been even moreso true for the other me. But neither of us did. Why is that? Ylisse is by far the most direct obstacle towards the revival of Grima. It makes no sense for one seeking his resurrection to aid her."

There was truth to his words, Lucina had to admit. But one thing bothered her.

"Why... Why would reviving Grima even be a possible goal for you? Why do you speak as if the other Robin was once a Grimleal?"

"Ah, right. I'm jumping ahead of myself a bit. Well, it's not like I intend to hide this from you. It's the point around which everything revolves, after all."

Lucina looked at him in confusion as Robin calmly removed the glove from his right hand. For a moment, Lucina could not breathe as she stared at the Mark of Grima.

"I'm sure you know what this is," Robin said quietly. "Just like how Naga's blood flows through your veins, Grima's does through mine. ...No, actually, it's completely different. I am the chosen vessel of Grima. I bear his heart."

Lucina stood still for a moment, then lunged forward, drawing Falchion in a blur with the intent of striking Robin down. Having expected this, Robin drew his sword in an instant and locked blades with her.

" _You!_ " she screamed, voice filled with fury and hatred. Before her was the monster that destroyed her world.

"Ah, I see. You didn't know about this part after all," Robin said somberly. "I only remembered after Validar, my father, touched my mind. All of my locked up memories came flooding back shortly afterward. I was raised to become Grima incarnate." He grimaced. "No, even before that, I was bred to be so. I never had anything resembling a chance at a normal life."

"Shut up! You expect me to feel pity for you, you damn monster?!" she shouted. "How long have you hidden this from us?! From my father?!"

"Chrom already knows," he said calmly. "I told him almost immediately after I remembered.

Lucina nearly stepped back in shock, but managed to keep her pressure on Falchion. "You lie... It's not possible that he would know this and yet..."

Robin said nothing in argument.

* * *

 _"Grima, huh?" Chrom said. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. He was sitting on a crate in the supply tent, shortly after the events on Carrion Isle. Robin stood before him. "...That's a bit of a problem."_

 _"A bit of a problem" was a mild understatement. Robin wasn't sure if he should be grateful that Chrom wasn't trying to run him through._

 _"And you're sure about this?" Chrom asked._

 _Robin held out his right hand and removed his glove, revealing the Mark of Grima. "Without question. Ever since Validar touched my mind, my memories have returned to me one by one. And now, I know for certain that I was raised to be the vessel for this Fell Dragon your daughter spoke of."_

 _"My daughter..." Chrom blinked, then shook his head. "Sorry. Matter for a different time. I'm still getting used to all of this."_

 _Robin smirked. "Honestly, in retrospect, I'm surprised that you figured out her nature as quickly as you did."_

 _"Hey..."_

 _Robin chuckled, but his face became deathly serious a moment afterwards. "Chrom, you should kill me."_

 _It took a moment for Chrom to process what he had just heard, but then he got up on his feet. "Robin, what the hell do you think you're saying?" he shouted angrily._

 _"It's a simple, rational decision. If I die, the world is instantly saved. Grima cannot manifest without me. It would take centuries before the Grimleal could groom another heir."_

 _"...What of the hierophant?"_

 _Robin blinked, stunned that he had managed to overlook such a significant detail. He stepped away, hand on his chin. "...I do not have a twin brother, as far as I can remember. But it is possible he was kept in seclusion, locked away from the world... A spare vessel..." He turned back toward Chrom. "Well, that just adds an extra step to the plan. Kill me, then kill the hierophant. Oh, and defeat Walhart along the way. I suppose we should leave me alive until I help you take care of the Conqueror; I'm not sure you could handle a campaign like that by yourself. But after that-"_

 _Chrom suddenly grabbed Robin by the shoulders forcefully. "Listen to me carefully, you bastard. I'm not letting you throw away your life just like that! I don't care what you're supposed to become, you're my friend, dammit!"_

 _"Chrom..."_

 _"Promise me you'll live!"_

 _Robin stared at him quietly, then moved Chrom's hands off his shoulders. "...Alright, alright. I promise. I'll try to think of another way. I'll do some reading on Grima."_

 _Chrom gave a heavy sigh as his shoulders slumped. "Naga, Robin, don't scare me like that." He paused, trying to think of a way to lighten the mood. "Imagine how sad little Lucina would be if her favorite babysitter went away."_

 _"Pity the bigger one doesn't care for me much," Robin said as the two exited the tent._

 _"Hey now, don't get any funny ideas," Chrom grinned. "She's still my daughter."_

 _Robin stared distantly at the horizon. "Don't worry. Something like that is definitely not possible for me."_

* * *

"Why do you think I'm telling you all this, Lucina?" Robin asked.

"Why should I care?!" she retorted.

"It's because you are the one who has the most right to judge me."

Of all the things Robin could have said, this was not something Lucina was in the least prepared for.

Robin took advantage of this and knocked her back, creating a small distance between the two. "...In honesty, I wasn't even sure if I would go through with this when I came to you. I made a promise to Chrom, but... After today..." he murmured, gesturing to the surrounding sea bleakly. "...Well, let's just say I've gotten a taste of what I might become, and I don't care for it. Chrom has been going on and on lately about how the future isn't set in stone, but I've never been as much of an optimist as him. Doesn't mesh particularly well with my line of work." He looked back towards Lucina, his gaze intense. "...Lucina, if anyone in this world has the right to decide whether I live or die, it is most certainly you. That is why I have told you everything that I know. If you decide I must die, I will die. If you decide I must live, I will live. Everything is in your hands now."

Lucina had no idea how she was supposed to react.

"So what will you do now?" Robin asked quietly. "Will you try to kill me?"

He dropped his sword. To Lucina, it was a clear and deliberate invitation. If she truly attempted it, Robin would likely allow her to kill him at this moment. But in her heart, she knew that this fact alone would not permit her to do so.

"...No," she said at long last. "Father believes in you. And you seem truly intent on not letting Validar have his way. And most importantly, I doubt that we will prevail against the Valmese without your aid. So for the time being, I will give you a chance."

"For the time being."

She nodded. "I will withhold judgment until after Walhart's fall. After that time, I will decide what must be done." With that, she sheathed Falchion.

"...I see. That is... troublesome."

Lucina blinked. "...What?"

He grinned. "Honestly, I had hoped you would kill me here and now. I figured you would agree I needed to die. I didn't think I would be given a chance to get up false hope!"

She could only stare at him, dumbfounded.

He laughed. "Well, I'm still waiting for the other boot to drop. No matter how I look at it, disposing of me after we finish off Walhart and the Plegian hierophant is still the most sensible thing to do. I trust you'll make the right choice in the end." He paused, pensive. "...But I wonder... Maybe, just maybe... Would it be alright for me to live my life after all...?"

He bent down, picked up his sword, sheathed it, and then he turned to take his leave. But he stopped, then turned back toward Lucina. "Oh, one more thing, Lucina... If at any time you suspect that I'll turn traitor, I want you to promise me that you'll kill me before I can kill Chrom."

Once more, Lucina was left nearly speechless. "You... you have my word."

Robin smiled his thanks, then turned and walked away.

Lucina rested her back against a wall, then sank to a sitting position, shaking. Had she made the right decision just now? Had she just doomed the world in a moment of weakness?

 _Robin... Just what are you?_


	2. Smoldering Resistance

Say'ri sprinted down the market street, panting heavily. Behind her, two armor knights were in pursuit. Though Say'ri had the edge in speed, she was exhausted, and the Valmese soldiers were more familiar with the port city than she was, knowing shortcuts that allowed them to close the gap. Having been disarmed during her attempt on Commander Farber's life, Say'ri now had no choice but to flee.

 _I pray thee, Naga, allow me to reach the Ylissean League, or all I have done is for naught..._

* * *

Waves crashed on the shore of Valm Harbor. Robin trudged along the beach, surveying the Valmese forces as the army made preparations for landfall. He kicked a bit of sand away from him. "Gods, and I thought there was a world's worth of this stuff back in Plegia..." he muttered.

He looked up, becoming aware of a presence. Lucina was approaching him, waving to him in greeting. Though her gesture was one of camaraderie, Robin noted that her expression was still somewhat cold.

"Hello, Princess. Taking a little stroll, are we?"

"I have decided that I shall accompany you into battle today," she said in explanation.

"Oh, you decided this, did you?" Robin asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes," Lucina replied, completely oblivious to his sarcasm. "I wish to understand you as best as I am able, in preparation for the time when I must make my decision. Furthermore, I still do not trust you fully. As such, I intend to observe you closely whenever I am able."

"And you came to this decision giving no thought to my intricately-laid battle plans and your already-established role in them, I take it?"

She smiled. "Why, surely accommodating for this adjustment to your plans isn't beyond a grandmaster tactician's ability?" she said with mock innocence.

Robin sighed. Though he wished to say that he couldn't do something like that on such short notice, in truth he always had contingency plans for influential figures such as Chrom, Sumia, Lucina, and Basilio being suddenly incapacitated before a battle began. It would be a simple matter for him to place Lucina by his side in a new formation.

"Fine, fine, do as you wish. Just don't get in my way. If I had wanted to babysit you I would never have left Ylisstol."

Lucina tilted her head. "I do not follow your meaning."

"It's a joke. The baby- You know what, never mind."

* * *

Some minutes later, Robin, Chrom, Frederick, and Lucina were standing at the forefront of the group of Shepherds selected to form the strike team. While the main army held off Valmese forces approaching from the beach, this group would quickly make their way through the port city and strike down the Valmese commander, Farber. The Shepherds Robin had deemed to be ineffectual in this battle had been given strict orders to stay on the ship.

Robin and Chrom were discussing last-minute details, while Lucina stood behind them, eyes incessantly wandering from Chrom, to Robin, to the Valmese, and then back to Chrom in an unbroken cycle. Robin could practically feel her eyes boring into the back of his head, but he made no show of noticing. He had nothing to hide, and if Lucina chose to strike him down at any moment, then his only complaint might be one about timing.

Just when Robin was about to give the command to advance, Chrom grabbed his shoulder and pointed. A woman whose features were similar to Lon'qu's (Chon'sinese, if Robin remembered correctly) was running through the streets. Frederick noted that she was being pursued, prompting Chrom to loudly declare that they would rescue her. Robin said nothing for or against this, merely observing the woman as she ran. After determining that it was indeed feasible to come to the woman's aid (laughably easy, in fact), Robin turned to his friend.

"Alright Chrom, quiz time. What's the best way to save that woman?" Robin had recently taken to teaching Chrom anything he could about strategy and tactics, claiming that it would become necessary at points during this campaign to split up their forces. While Virion was already a quite capable secondary tactician and Chrom was not ignorant of basic warfare, Robin was concerned that they might end up separated for days at a time, necessitating that the Exalt be capable of being completely autonomous in leading his army. _A back-up plan isn't a back-up plan unless it itself has a built-in back-up plan_ , as Robin liked to say.

Although Chrom said nothing of it, in truth he feared that Robin was preparing him for the event of Robin taking his own life someday in order to avert the threat he would eventually pose as Grima's chosen vessel.

Focusing on the task at hand, Chrom squinted, surveying the area and assessing the Valmese force's composition and positioning. He tapped a finger to his chin, thinking for a few moments as he accounted for the soldiers under his command.

"I would send some mages to handle the knights that have cornered the woman. Our Knights and fighters would protect them from cavalry while our own cavalry ran sorties to dispatch the Valmese's own mages."

"Good answer. Completely wrong."

"What?! How?!"

"Lissa. Rescue Staff," Robin commanded.

"On it!" she exclaimed cheerfully. She held up the rod, and in a flash of light a ward appeared in the distance around the cornered woman before she was whisked away and instantaneously transported to Lissa's side. Chrom and the woman stared at each other, each respectively dumbfounded. Lucina covered her face with her hand; she couldn't help but be a little embarrassed for her father. Robin, however, was bent over laughing at his friend's expression, and Lissa was indiscreetly snickering.

"Let's... Let's just get this over with..." Chrom muttered as he raised his hand to signal the attack.

* * *

Noire was taking a significant risk. She shouldn't be on this battlefield; had been ordered to stay off it in fact, but nevertheless she was slipping from stall to stall, trailing a certain tactician from a distance. She still wasn't sure what exactly she intended to do. Parts of her held Robin in reverence, and parts of her hated him from the bottom of her heart. When she was a small child, Robin was a man that her mother had spoken most highly of. After the Exalt's death, however, Tharja had refused to speak of him, and once Noire's father was killed, Tharja began to openly curse Robin's name.

Noire had never been able to reconcile which of the two was the real Robin, the gallant hero or the depraved murderer, and the Robin she found when she traveled back in time was a different version entirely, cold and calculating, but not cruel. Noire's innate timidity had prevented her from approaching him, and she had had little difficulty adhering to Lucina's orders to refrain from harming him. However, what Lucina had recently revealed to their group was starting to shift her stance on the man.

* * *

 _Lucina's eyes were closed, and her arms were folded in front of her. She seemed to be having difficulty on deciding where to start with what she had to say. Before her sat Kjelle, Noire, Yarne, Severa, Nah, and Laurent in a semi-circle. Though Severa was showing signs of irritation, they each waited patiently; Lucina did not call their group together to discuss trivial things._

 _At last, Lucina opened her eyes. "What do you all think of Robin?" she asked abruptly._

 _The group looked to each other in confusion; that was as loaded as a question could get._

 _"He's strong," Kjelle said simply._

 _"He's a huge jerkass," Severa scowled._

 _"H-He's kind of mean, b-but he also doesn't seem all that bad..." Noire stammered._

 _"He is an outstanding tactician. I have determined little else about him, however," Laurent stated._

 _Yarne and Nah looked at each other, then shrugged._

 _"I haven't been with the Shepherds long enough to form an opinion on him," Nah said._

 _"Me neither," Yarne added. "He's pretty scary sometimes though..."_

 _Lucina silent for a few moments. "...Robin has regained the memories he had lost."_

 _"So?" Kjelle asked bluntly._

 _"Why should we care?" Severa added._

 _"Because, among those memories, Robin found the knowledge that he bears the Heart of Grima."_

 _The six went rigid with shock; none of them had been even remotely prepared for a bombshell such as this._

 _"Y-You've got to be kidding me..." Severa muttered. "What the hell?! Is this some kind of joke?!"_

 _"There's no way..." Nah murmured._

 _Kjelle simply stood up, and began to make her way to the cabin door._

 _"Kjelle, where are you going?" Lucina asked._

 _"To kill the bastard, of course," Kjelle replied without even turning to regard her liege._

 _"You will do no such thing."_

 _Kjelle froze in her tracks, and the other five turned to look at Lucina in disbelief._

 _"...Care to repeat that?"_

 _"Robin has willingly placed his life in my hands. He has given me permission to end him at any time I see fit. As such, though you deserve to know of his true nature, you will not lay hands on him."_

 _"Are you an idiot?" Kjelle asked through gritted teeth. "You must be, because Robin is surely playing you like one."_

 _"Gods, Lucina!" Severa seethed in disbelief. "Not killing him while he was an amnesiac, I get. Innocent until he becomes guilty and all that. But when he's the godsdamned Heart of Grima?! What the hell are you thinking?!"_

 _"...When I asked you all what you thought of him, not a one of you said he was an evil man. Even if he is meant to murder my father and become Grima, there still exists the possibility that he will do neither, and he strives for that possibility. I do not guarantee that he will be spared. But at the moment he is still vital for this campaign against Walhart."_

 _"Be that as it may, you are asking us to take an unconscionable risk," Laurent interjected. "Even if we accept that Robin is not manipulating you in some manner, and account for his military contributions, we do not have the right to endanger the world, to undo all of our painful sacrifices and strenuous labors, for the sake of one man. If Robin acquiesces to laying down his life for the greater good, then all the better. I cannot condone his continued survival."_

 _"I concur," Nah said. "Perhaps I'm not the best one to be saying this, but you're being childish, Lucina."_

 _"...Do you all trust me?" Lucina asked quietly._

 _The group turned to look at each other. While none of them were in support of Lucina on the issue of Robin, they were all loyal to her without a fault._

 _"We would not have followed you this far were that not the case," Laurent stated. "You have proven yourself time and again to be worthy of our fealty. Each of us would readily lay down our lives for you." The others nodded in agreement, uttering short affirmations._

 _"You're still being an idiot, though," Kjelle added, to which Severa nodded again._

 _"Then I ask that you trust me in this as well," Lucina said, ignoring Kjelle. "There is no one who wishes for my father's safety as much as I... And I wish to undo our future just as much as the rest of you. But my father always spoke of Robin so highly, told me of all the times that Robin had saved his life... I want to believe that that man exists. That he can be saved along with everyone else."_

 _The group was uncomfortable, but they said nothing in protest. They had all been told stories of Robin's deeds when they were young. Finding out that he was the man who had doomed the world had been liking losing a personal hero for each of them._

 _"...And if we refuse your request?" Kjelle asked._

 _"...Then I shall have no choice but to stop you by my own hand," Lucina said firmly._

 _The two woman stared at each other for some moments, but at last Kjelle broke eye contact and sighed loudly. "Alright, alright. We'll leave him to you. Just don't mess this up, Lucina," she warned sternly. "You know the consequences."_

 _Lucina turned away. "...Indeed, I do..."_

* * *

Noire had said little during that meeting. Noire knew she wasn't as strong as the others, and had come back in time for a selfish reason: She simply wanted to see her parents again. While Gaius had died when she was young, and Tharja was terrifying at times, they were the only people who had ever made her feel truly safe. Losing them had been a tremendous blow to Noire's already frail psyche. And so when Noire started to come to the conclusion that she must kill Robin, it was not to protect the future, but to protect her mother and father.

Noire ducked behind a stall, scanning to make sure her mother was still alive and well on the frontlines before returning to her surveillance of Robin. Robin and Lucina were making their way to the market square, fighting back to back. They complemented each other well, or rather, they would have if Lucina was willing to trust Robin. Robin, well accustomed to fighting alongside Chrom, knew how to cover all of Lucina's weaknesses, as well as how to signal to Lucina on how to cover his own. Lucina, for her part, was a quick study, and would have been fighting alongside him with perfect fluidity if it hadn't been for the fact that she was ever-watchful for the time when he might betray her. As the fighting started to weaken with the Valmese being routed, the two split up a bit to cover more ground.

It would be a simple thing to kill him now, Noire realized. At this distance, she couldn't possibly miss, and Robin was still unaware that she was shadowing him. Robin, Grandmaster Tactician, would be felled by a seemingly stray arrow, and no one outside of her friends would ever suspect a thing. Lucina's proximity was a concern, but she couldn't possibly keep an eye on Robin at all times, not with a battle raging around them. All she had to do was let the arrow fly, and it would all be over.

And yet, she couldn't bring herself to do it. Trembling and cursing herself for a coward, Noire allowed her bowstring to go slack. She simply didn't have it in her to become a murderer. She didn't care if Lucina was right or wrong, if Robin was good or evil. She just wanted to protect her mother. If the day came when Robin truly did become a threat to her, then Noire knew what she would have to do. But until then, her place was by her mother's side. Newly resolved, she turned to go to Tharja's aid, only to run straight into a Valmese knight.

Noire shrieked loudly, and immediately drew her bowstring, knowing it to be a futile effort. The knight struck with his lance, and Noire desperately rolled to the side, narrowly dodging the strike. The knight charged with surprising speed, lunging his plated shoulder into Noire's gut and sending her tumbling. She got to her knees, coughing, and scrambled for her bow, but the knight was upon her before she could get up, lance raised for the killing blow. Noire squeezed her eyes shut, knowing that this was her end.

Suddenly, a bolt of lightning arced through the air and came crashing down on the knight, electrocuting him. He gave a bloodcurdling scream, then toppled over, dead, with steam rising from his armor. A shadow loomed over Noire, and she turned with a start.

"What the hell do you think you're doing here, Noire?" Robin asked coldly and quietly.

"Eep! I, um, that is to say..."

Robin glared at her. "This battle is not one suited for an archer. You can't touch armored knights, as you just saw. Cavalry will ride you down before you can deal with them, and mages have the edge in a ranged fight since they have the advantage if they draw close. You're nothing but a liability right now."

"But I... Mother-"

"Tharja can take care of herself. Get the hell back on the ship." He frowned as he noticed that Noire was now trembling. "Ah shit, wait, don't go all "Bloo-""

"BLOOD AND THUNDER!"

"Gods _dammit._ "

"SHUT YOUR FILTHY MOUTH, TREASONOUS SWINE! I TRAVELED THROUGH AEONS TO PROTECT MY MOTHER FROM THE LIKES OF YOU!"

Robin narrowed his eyes, then snatched Noire's talisman off her neck. The effect was immediate.

"Eep! G-give that back! If I don't have my talisman, I-I'll..."

Robin held the pendant aloft, observing it. "Gods, Tharja did a number on this thing. The amount of hexes on this is making my skin crawl."

"W-wait, how can you tell that?"

Robin glanced at Noire. "I'm sure Lucina's already had a little chat with you all. My memories are my own again. As someone raised as a Grimleal, it's natural that I can use Dark Magic."

Noire's brow furrowed in confusion. "R-raised as a Grimleal? But Mother said you hated the Grimleal..."

Robin's eyes became distant. "Yes, and for good reason..." he trailed off, before coming to and remembering their situation. "Right. Active warzone. Noire. Ship. Now," he commanded as he tossed the talisman back to her. He hesitated for a moment. "...If you wish to discuss your mother, or myself, we can do so after the battle is over."

He turned away before Noire could respond, checking over the flow of battle. "Good, good, things are advancing fairly smoothly. And it looks like- Oh for the love of... YARNE, GET YOUR SCRAWNY ASS BACK ON THE BATTLEFIELD THIS INSTANT AND TAKE DOWN THOSE CAVALIERS, OR I'LL GIVE YOU SOMETHING TO _REALLY_ CRY ABOUT, DAMMIT!" He ran back to battlefield, where Lucina had been waiting. The princess had only become aware of Noire's peril an instant before Robin had slain the Valmese knight, and as such had been watching the two of them from a distance. Noire was sure that Lucina would question her about the incident later. But for now, she decided to obey Robin's orders and took off for the ship.

* * *

Elsewhere, Chrom was striking down Farber.

"We... are legion..." the commander sputtered as he slid off Falchion.

"Yeah, yeah. You're also dead," Chrom muttered as the surviving Valmese forces sounded the retreat.

"Merry, what fighting," the Chon'sinese woman, Say'ri, said as she approached Chrom after the battle had ended. "Would that we had even a thousand men of your caliber in the resistance, for Walhart would never have given Ylisse cause for concern."

Chrom chuckled, rubbing his head in embarrassment. "You resistance members must be quite skilled in your own right to have held out this long."

Say'ri gave a slight smile. "I thank you for your kind words, milord. But Walhart has scattered us to the four winds, aided by my treacherous brother, Yen'fay. We are but shadows of our former selves."

"Family fighting family, huh? That's real sad," Robin said suddenly as he and Lucina approached the two from behind.

Say'ri narrowed her eyes at his tone. "And who might this scoundrel be?"

"Umm... My grandmaster tactician, Robin of Ylisse," Chrom said somewhat apologetically.

"Th- _the_ Robin?! This man?!"

"What, is that a problem?" Robin asked with his hands on his hips.

"N-no, good sir! I beg thy pardon for my offense!"

Robin raised an eyebrow, then turned to Chrom. "So who is she anyway? Why were the Valmese chasing her?"

Say'ri stared incredulously at Robin. It was the height of rudeness to the Chon'sinese to skip introductions, let alone ignore someone standing right in front of oneself entirely.

"Say'ri, Princess of Chon'sin and head of the Valmese Resistance Force."

"Oh? Well, my condolences for your losses and compliments for surviving as long as you have."

"Do you mock me, sir?"

"No, no, not at all. Walhart strikes me as the absolute eradication type; I mean it when I say evading him for as long as you have seems quite the ordeal..." He put his hand on his chin, and looked away, deep in thought about something. "Even moreso when your very own brother serves under him..."

Lucina looked at him quizzically, not sure what he was insinuating, or if he was even insinuating anything at all. Say'ri struggled to keep herself from glaring at him. She turned back to Chrom. "So, Milord, what do you plan to do next?"

"Well, we were discussing proceeding along the shoreline until we could march to a place called Wyvern Valley, and then cut into the mainland from there."

"A surprisingly sound plan for ones unfamiliar with this continent's terrain. However, your path takes you a direction opposite of where you must go."

"Oh?" Robin asked.

"If we wish to strike a true blow agaisnt the Valmese, then we must head to the Mila Tree, and rescue a woman Walhart's forces hold captive there: The Voice of Naga, Lady Tiki."

" _The_ Lady Tiki?!" Lucina suddenly exclaimed, eyes full of wonder. "Companion to the Hero King?!"

Robin, Chrom, and Say'ri all turned to look at her in surprise, causing her to blush. "I, umm, I would like to meet her, if able. That is all..."

"Easy there, "Marth"," Robin grinned, eliciting a petulant scowl from Lucina. He turned back to Say'ri. And why must we rescue this "Voice"?"

"The resistance forces will rally behind her presence. However, it will be difficult to free her, for one of Walhart's top generals, Cervantes, has an entire legion stationed-"

"Let me stop you right there," Robin interrupted. "Not happening."

"What?!" Say'ri and Lucina exclaimed simultaneously in shock.

"Even if this Tiki is a figure from legend, if she can keep a top general and an entire legion tied up just by sitting in some tree, then she's already being of far more use doing that than she could elsewhere."

"Y-you heartless _fiend_ ," Say'ri seethed.

"Are you a child?" Robin asked quietly, causing Say'ri to stiffen with fury.

"We aren't playing a game here. One misstep, and we could all die. I'm not gambling everything on some figurehead who might not even be able to do anything for us. Right now, Tiki provides us a concrete advantage right where she is, and we would be fools to sacrifice that when we're so sorely outnumbered by Walhart's men. We have to pick and choose our battles as carefully as we can."

Lucina wished to say something in protest, but she could not argue with his logic.

"You... you would use the Divine Oracle as a _pawn_?!" Say'ri spat. "You are the lowest of the low!"

"Indeed," Robin agreed. "That is what it will take to surmount the odds we're up against. I'll take any advantage, no matter how underhanded. And as a leader, you need to learn how to separate your personal feelings about the Voice from your duty."

Say'ri's cheeks pinkened. "Wh-wha-?"

"Ah, as I thought. You _do_ know her. I can only assume you must have met her some time before Walhart's conquest began. But that's irrelevant," he said sternly. "You're not going to convince me to change my mind, so if you're deadset on this try swaying Chrom. I might listen to him." With that he took his leave, leaving a fuming Say'ri with Chrom and Lucina. Lucina hesitated a moment, then bowed to Say'ri in apology, before rushing off after him. Chrom raised an eyebrow in surprise at this, then sighed and shook his head.

"Please excuse Robin. He doesn't get along with people well. It's hard to tell, but his heart's in the right place. He's just trying to think long-term and keep casualties to a minimum."

Say'ri scowled, but nodded her understanding. "I will trust in your judgment on him, Lord Chrom. But in the meantime, do not think I am dissuaded from wishing to rescue Lady Tiki. I will talk your ear off if that is what it takes to convince you."

Chrom chuckled. "Well, so far ignoring Robin's advice usually goes poorly for me, but I'm more than willing to listen to what you have to say."

* * *

"Robin!" Lucina called as she caught up to the tactician.

"What? Here to chastise me for being an uncaring monster?" he asked defensively.

She shook her head. "No, I have not. Having been placed in similar situations myself, I understand your refusal to endanger the one to save the many, even if Lady Tiki is an important figure in the eyes of the people."

Robin relaxed somewhat. "Then what?"

"I wished to ask you about Wyvern Valley."

"Hmm? Well, I don't know much about it; only that it's a large natural canyon, is connected to a river that leads into the mainland, and as the name suggests, is home to an abundance of wyverns. Why do you ask?"

"I suspect that we may find one of my comrades there."

"Oh?" Robin paused for a moment. "...Cherche's child?"

Lucina stared in surprise. "Why, yes. How did you know?"

"Minerva. Not difficult."

"Oh. Right..."

"What's this child like?"

"Gerome? He's... very withdrawn. He's quiet, and stern, but he's also loyal and gallant. He's saved my life more times than I count..."

Robin noticed the look in her eyes. "You describe him as if a lover."

"Wh-what?!" Lucina stammered, cheeks scarlet. "Don't be absurd! Gerome is a trusted comrade and a good friend, nothing more!"

"Methinks the lady doth protest much," he grinned.

"Take that back! I will not have you sully my honor!" Lucina yelled.

"Gods, ok, ok, I'm sorry!" Robin cringed. "It was a joke! I didn't mean offense!"

She coughed, reigning herself in as she realized she was overreacting. "...My apologies. My outburst was uncalled for." She gave Robin a sideways look for a moment, then leaned in conspiratorially. "Besides, Gerome has eyes only for my sister," she said with a mischievous grin.

"You have a sister?"

Lucina blinked innocently. "...The topic never came up?"

"Gods, you should probably at least give Chrom and Sumia some forewarning about that..."

Lucina laughed. "Yes, I suppose you are right."

The two's conversation meandered as they made their way back to the ships, wandering from the topic of the future children, to the countries of Valm, to information spies had collected on the Valmese forces. In spite of her trepidation, Lucina was finding it easier to speak with Robin as time went on. Lucina felt some concern nagging at the back of her mind that she was being too open with Robin, but then she would mentally chastise herself; she could not be an unbiased judge if she did not examine Robin as a person from all angles. And so she continued to speak freely with him.

"...Oh yeah, and get this: Apparently this Walhart guy is a godsdamned vegetarian!" Robin exclaimed.

"Get out. Really? That's not possible..."

"I know, right? What the hell kind of sociopath doesn't eat meat?!"


	3. Scion of Legend

A Risen stood atop a castle tower, watching the sun set in the distance. He wore an assassin's cowl, which framed his glowing red eyes in a mantle of shadow. To his left, another Risen approached, a female Swordmaster. He made no effort to acknowledge her presence, neither through sound nor motion.

"Greetings, Porcus," she said after some time.

Porcus said nothing.

"...I see the spark of intelligence in your gaze now. Have your memories of your past life finally returned?"

"...Yes." His voice was gravelly and deep, and kept to little more than a whisper. It was the voice of one unaccustomed to speaking, and the recency of his summoning exacerbated this.

"...And who were you, once upon a time?"

Porcus turned to look at her out of the corner of her eye. "No one in particular... Someone whom the pages of history had no need for..." He grinned, the first human gesture he had made so far. "A man who lived and died in the shadows."

The Swordmaster frowned. Their group was a storied lot; Draco was the founder of the country of Roseanne, Canis was once a High Priestess of Naga, Gallus had been the first Grimleal Hierophant, and she herself had been an empress for Naga's sake! How could someone so anonymous have joined their ranks?

She sighed. Not that any of that mattered.

"What in the eighteen hells are you doing up here, anyway?" she asked, changing the topic.

"Eighteen hells, huh...? Wonder which of them... you spent your time in..."

The Swordmaster, Simia, narrowed her eyes.

"To answer your question... Wanted to see... the sunset... Realized... I couldn't remember... what the last one I saw... looked like..."

"Can you not speak faster? Is your slurred speech sign of inbreeding?"

"Gahahaha... I like you. Makes me regret... that we're both corpses..."

Simia crinkled her nose in disgust. "As if a commoner-"

"Easy there..." Porcus interrupted. "Blueblood, I take it?" he smiled wryly. "Or should I say... black blood, now...? Hehehehe..."

Simia scowled.

"Ah... Don't be like that... We are... partners, now... Should try to get along..." Porcus continued. He paused. "Speaking of which... We have... a mission?"

She nodded. "Aye. It would appear the Ylissean League is not headed for the Mila Tree as our master had hoped. We are instead to go to the Sages' Hamlet. The master predicts that they should be passing through the area near the time that we arrive. We are to take the heads of the Exalts, both future-past and present, and, failing that, we shall silence the sages forevermore so that their knowledge of events yet to transpire may never be passed down."

"Hmph... Never cared much... for soothsaying..."

Simia smiled. "Nor I. Our courts were filled to bursting with diviners who couldn't predict the weather, let alone the fate of a country. However, _these_ men are no mere fortune peddlers. They are akin to prophets. 'Twould not do to allow their secrets to be shared."

"Very well... Let's go, then..." Porcus made to move past Simia, but stopped at her side."Ah... remembered one interesting thing... just now..."

Simia raised an eyebrow.

"The one called Mus... Knew him when both of us... were alive..."

Simia's jaw dropped. "Impossible! Surely you jest!" Mus's origins were a complete mystery to her. Simia suspected that even their master did not know of them. "...But if you speak true, might you then know his true name?"

Porcus gave an unnerving smile that displayed razor-sharp teeth. "The one called Holy Emperor, in whose wake feasted naught but coyotes and wolves..."

" _Hardin._ "

* * *

 _Three Days Prior_

Robin groggily opened his eyes. He became alert when he realized that there was a woman standing next to his bed, but that quickly subsided once he recognized who she was. He yawned, and blearily rubbed the sleep from his eyes before sitting up, sheets still covering his lower half.

"Good morning, Princess."

"It's nearly afternoon," Lucina replied sternly. "You slept through the wake-up call."

"I'd have slept much longer, too, if you hadn't woken me. Still, it's strange even for you to come into my tent uninvited. Is something amiss?"

"Father has summoned you for a council with Lady Say'ri, Khans Flavia and Basilio, and myself."

"Guh... No doubt because of more lobbying from Say'ri... Wonderful, this is exactly how I want to start my day." He sighed loudly. "Alright, I'll be there shortly," he said, waving his hand in dismissal.

Lucina did not move. "I had intended to walk with you."

He blinked. "Umm, that's fine, but I still need to get ready for the day."

She tilted her head.

"Ok, let me rephrase this more bluntly: I'm completely naked underneath these sheets and can't do anything to address that while you're standing about."

Lucina's cheeks quickly became a furious shade of scarlet, and she hurriedly exited the tent. Robin chuckled a bit before sliding out of bed. He reached into his rather untidy dresser and pulled out some clothes, eyes lingering on the work that had consumed his night as he dressed. Even if they were lacking in numbers, the resistance forces had granted him surprisingly useful information. It was terrifying information, but useful nonetheless. Walhart's men numbered over a million by most estimates, and his forces were split into three major divisions, with pockets of more soldiers scattered here and there. Apparently there had been a fourth division once, but the Ylissean League had already eradicated that group when they obliterated the Valmese navy.

Robin walked over to a large map of Valm as he tugged on his coat. Walhart's division occupied the top part of the continent, Yen'fay's the southern peninsula, and Cervantes's the space in-between. Any one of these divisions alone outnumbered the entire Ylissean League by a fair amount. But their size didn't make the divisions unbeatable. Massive forces were difficult to mobilize on a moment's notice, and could be tricked into stretching themselves thin enough so as to make their numbers more manageable.

Robin had originally planned to have the army travel alongside the coastline and, once they had ventured inland, rivers, in order to minimize their risk of being caught off guard and flanked by superior forces. But now that he had a rough idea of where all of the pieces were on the board, such restricted movement wasn't as necessary. He had spent all night drafting plans that sought to take advantage of the information presented to him, and in the early hours of dawn had finally found the outline of one that was beginning to look appealing to him.

Robin scrunched up his eyes as he exited the tent, the sun's light far too bright for his liking. He found Lucina standing nearby. She was tapping her foot, her face's shade now down to a much more mellow pink.

"Sorry for keeping you waiting. Shall we go?" he asked.

She nodded curtly, and they began to make their way toward the command tent.

"Something the matter?" he teased.

"Of all the stories I had heard of you, none of them mentioned you being so indecent," she said flatly.

He laughed. "Indecent? Sorry to burst your bubble, Princess, but I'm sure many men sleep in the nude in the privacy of their own tents." He grinned. "Your father probably does too."

Lucina's cheeks ratcheted back up to crimson. "I-I would very much like to discuss something else now," she stammered.

It took quite a bit of restraint on Robin's part for him to not burst into laughter at this, but he swallowed it down and nodded. "Say, have you ever heard of the Radiant Hero?"

* * *

When the two arrived at the command tent they found Chrom, Basilio, and Flavia gathered around Say'ri, who was proudly displaying her swords. Flavia was admiring the craftsmanship and questioning Say'ri about it, and from what Robin knew of lip-reading he gathered that Chrom and Basilio were discussing something about Lon'qu.

Chrom broke away from the conversation when he noticed Robin and Lucina. "Ah, there you are, Robin!"

"Hello, Chrom. I'm going to be very angry if you woke me up just to discuss Say'ri's super-special swords."

Chrom laughed. "It seems peacetime didn't change your sleeping habits at all, huh? But no, I've gathered everyone here so that we can deliberate on a very important issue."

"Let me guess," Robin sighed. "You want us to go save Tiki."

Chrom nodded. "I've been discussing the matter at length with Say'ri. She believes that we can rally the Valmese people behind us if we can save her. And the idea of just leaving that woman there... Well, it just doesn't sit right with me."

"This is war, Chrom. A lot of things tend to not sit right with a lot of people."

"This isn't an emotional decision," Chrom replied. "Say'ri makes some very convincing arguments."

"Oh yes, I'm sure she does. Just as I'm the sure the ones I make are even moreso."

"Why are you so obstinate in refusing to go to her aid?" Say'ri asked.

"Why are you so obstinate about doing so?" Robin replied, examining his fingernails in a show of disinterest.

Say'ri clenched her fists, but did not allow her temper to flare. "Lady Tiki is the hope for countless thousands! Do you have any idea how many souls find solace in her wisdom?"

"I don't doubt that many people revere Tiki. I also don't doubt that Walhart already trampled down most of the people who were willing to take up the sword for her."

Say'ri's eyes became downcast. "It is true that the followers of Naga have suffered much at the hands of Walhart. But that does not mean that we have given up!"

"No, it simply means that you've been beaten. Tiki is little more than a trophy at the moment."

Say'ri was now beginning to lose the battle with her anger. " _You-_ "

"Why do you suppose that Walhart imprisoned Tiki, rather than outright kill her?" Robin interrupted.

The other five blinked in surprise.

"As a captive, she's just proof of the impotency of the gods," he continued. " _If Naga can't descend from on high and rescue her daughter, then what good is she?_ That's the kind of question Walhart wants the people to be asking themselves. But as a martyr, Tiki becomes something much more dangerous."

"How so?" Chrom asked.

"Right now, the people of this continent have lost their sovereignty, their freedom, their dignity, their livelihoods... But they can still cling to their faith. But if you take that away, then these people will have lost everything. And it's only when the people have nothing left to lose that real revolutions take place."

"All the more reason to free the Voice!" Say'ri exclaimed. "The people's might will rally under the banner of Naga!"

Robin shook his head. "You're being idealistic to the point of naivety. The people who were willing to fight have already done so. You and your Resistance should be well aware of that given how thoroughly Walhart kicked your shit up and down the continent, to the point that you can't even really be called a real army anymore."

Say'ri was now definitely becoming furious. "You _dare_ belittle the sacrifices of my comrades?!" she shouted.

Robin frowned. "Hmm. Alright, I'll apologize for that one. But my point is, you were on the verge of being wiped out before we arrived. Walhart never would have invaded us in the first place if he wasn't confident he already had this continent firmly under his heel. Any forces that Tiki's rescue could muster would probably be pitiful. Walhart's not all that concerned about some minor farmer insurrections. Regular people gaining the will to fight doesn't magically fix the issue."

"Many Ylisseans worship Naga too, you know," Chrom pointed out, gesturing to his brand. "Our own army would surely gain some morale from fighting alongside her daughter."

"Right, but given the fact that Ylisse's army is exhausted from two consecutive wars with Plegia, the bulk of our forces are Regna Feroxi, and most of _them_ couldn't give a rat's ass about one god over another."

"Amen to that," Basilio agreed. "I've got nothing against Naga or this Tiki lady, but I'm not getting my arse killed for either of them." Flavia nodded in agreement.

"Well, what of the people in the Valmese army itself?" Chrom countered. "There have to be people who were pressed into service in Walhart's armies; they might desert upon hearing news of her freedom."

"Ordinarily, you would have a point there, Chrom. If I thought that splintering those massive divisions just by freeing Tiki was feasible, I would already be working on plans for it." Robin looked at Chrom sharply. "But I don't think it's going to work out like that."

"How do you mean?" Flavia asked.

"I read the reports about the Valmese soldiers we captured at the harbor. Then I read them again, and then went to speak with each of those men myself because I needed to be sure what I learned was true." Robin turned back to the Exalt, his face grave. "Chrom, this Walhart is as much of a god to his men as Naga is to you."

"What better way to fight a god than with another god, then?!" Say'ri asked.

"Not half-bad rhetoric, but pointless if Naga herself isn't leading us. And frankly, I don't see her leaping up to come to our aid. In truth, I agree with some of Walhart's opinions on the subject of gods."

Say'ri growled. "Plegian, just because _your_ god-"

"Do _not_ call that thing my god!" Robin shouted, causing all present to jump at his intensity.

"Easy there, Robin," Chrom said calmly, placing his hand on Robin's shoulder. "She doesn't know better." Robin took a deep breath, reigning himself back in. His eyes wandered to Lucina, who was looking at him with something between alarm and concern. He did notice, however, that her right hand had not instinctively drifted to Falchion in response to his outburst.

"I know that you're just trying to make a rational decision, Robin," Chrom continued. "But are we really any better than Walhart if we throw away Tiki for our own convenience?"

"Um, yes? Leagues better. We're not running around enslaving people and stirring up wars."

Chrom was beginning to grow agitated. "It's the principle of the thing!"

"I thought you just said this wasn't an emotional decision."

"It's not! But you can't base everything you do on facts and numbers!"

"My _entire job_ is based on that! And let me tell you, Walhart's numbers are a hell of a lot bigger than ours!"

"All the more reason to try and subvert that advantage in any way we can!" Chrom retorted.

"Maybe so! But even then, there are just too many godsdamned hypotheticals to all this, Chrom! _Assuming_ we can defeat Cervantes and his division before reinforcements arrive, _assuming_ we can rescue Tiki, _assuming_ she's willing and able to fight for us, _assuming_ she boosts our morale a tad and gets some godsdamn farmers to join us, then what?! How many lives would we have to trade?! How many more when we inevitably get pinned down by the Valmese after wasting so much time at that tree?!"

A crowd of the Shepherds was now gathering around the group, drawn by the heated debate. Lucina noticed that her aunt and uncle were now standing near her. Lissa gave a little wave, and Lon'qu a terse nod, to which Lucina replied in kind.

In truth, she was uncomfortable about this debate. While she wished to go to Tiki's aid as her father did, her greater purpose dictated that they defeat Walhart as soon as they were able so that they could turn their full attention to Grima, and Robin's methods were likely the best chance they would have at doing that.

"And hell, I could be wrong, Chrom!" Robin continued loudly. "Maybe saving Tiki _is_ the best step forward! But I'm sure as hell not gambling our lives in order to find out!" He looked away. "...Hell, maybe the best choice would be for us to just _let_ the Valmese kill her..." Robin muttered. Say'ri and Lucina gasped in shock, and Flavia whistled.

Chrom stared at Robin for a moment in disbelief, then suddenly struck him across the face with a strong right hook, which dropped Robin to a kneel. Robin stared at the ground as he rubbed a split lip. He spat out a bit of blood.

"...I'll admit I crossed a line there. That said _..._!" He lunged upward and caught Chrom with a straight jab to the nose. "You don't think I'm just going to sit back and take that, do you?"

Chrom blinked and reached up to his nose, which was now leaking blood. He blinked again, then lashed out and connected with another strong right hook. Robin staggered, but was prepared this time and did not fall. He pivoted on his heel and delivered a powerful kick to Chrom's gut, causing the Exalt to gag and take a few steps back. Robin mercilessly took advantage of this and pressed forward, striking Chrom with a right hook of his own. Chrom growled and grabbed Robin by the lapels, rearing back to give a headbutt. Robin perceived this, and likewise pulled his head back. Their foreheads met with a loud crack that caused all present to wince, and the two teetered away from each other, clutching their skulls in pain for a moment. They glared at each other, then jumped right back into the thick of it, a tangle of violence and swearing.

Having watched all of this with more than some alarm, Lucina made to step towards the two, intent on breaking up the fight. She was stopped however, when Lissa placed a hand on her arm. Lucina turned to her in confusion, but Lissa simply shook her head.

"Shouldn't we stop them?!" Lucina asked.

"Nah, this isn't the first time this sort of thing has happened. It's just boys being boys. Although the last time they went at it this hard was right after Emm died..."

Lucina bit her lip in uncertainty.

"They'll be fine," Lissa assured her. "It's like a fight between brothers."

"Sometimes words fail where a fist will not," Lon'qu said gruffly.

Lucina swallowed, and her hand drifted down to Falchion as she eyed Robin warily. Lissa and Lon'qu couldn't possibly know the real reason for her concern.

* * *

"Over-under on time?" Basilio asked.

"One minute," Flavia replied.

"Over then. Wager?."

"The usual."

"Sounds fine. Chrom to win it."

Flavia smirked. "I'll say indecisive outcome."

"You're on."

* * *

"You can't save everyone, Chrom!" Robin yelled as he delivered a kick to Chrom's side.

"I know that!" Chrom yelled back as he struck Robin's jaw with an uppercut. "How could I not know that?! But even so, why can't I try?!"

"Because the world isn't that accommodating, you idiot!" Robin shouted, rearing back for a punch. He lashed out, just as Chrom threw a punch of his own. They both struck each other at the same time, and silence reigned over the camp for a moment before both staggered backward and fell on their haunches.

* * *

Basilio scowled and discreetly dropped a few silvers into a grinning Flavia's hand.

* * *

Chrom was breathing heavily, and wiped blood from his mouth. He looked up to Robin, locking eyes.

"If I abandon Tiki..." Chrom panted. "How can I be sure I won't abandon you...?"

Robin went rigid for a moment, then said nothing as he slowly stood up and began to walk shakily back to his tent. Lucina's eyes trailed him as Lissa came up and crouched down beside her brother, already digging into her pouch for a healing stave. Lucina gave one last glance at her father, who was talking wearily with Lissa as he was being healed, before she turned and followed after the tactician.

* * *

Robin didn't turn his head at the sound of his tent flap opening. He didn't need to guess who it was. "Look, I'm really not in the mood for this right now, so if you're going to say something then say it and begone."

"...Try as hard as I might, I still do not understand you," Lucina said quietly.

"Most people don't. Alright then, good talk. Ta-ta," he gestured for her to leave, never once looking at her. When she did not budge, he turned to regard her coldly. "Or perhaps you're here because of our little arrangement, and you're going to kill me over that bout of fisticuffs?"

"Don't be absurd. Do you honestly think me to be so petty?"

"Hmph." Robin turned back away.

"I do not understand how one in your circumstances does not hate the world," she continued.

"...What makes you think that I don't?"

"Could one who truly hates the world struggle so hard to protect others?" She gestured to the mess of parchment and quills and quills on his desk, and the numerous spent candles. "Would they go to such lengths?"

"Isn't the issue here that I _don't_ want to protect a certain someone?"

"It is not that you don't," Lucina replied calmly. "It is that you think you are unable."

"Making quite the assumption there, aren't we? Did it occur to you that I might be deliberately leaving Tiki to die just because she's related to Naga?"

"I do not know why you are attempting to incite paranoia from me, but no, such a thought did not occur to me. Nor does it now."

Robin's expression was difficult to read. He sighed. " _You're_ the one I don't get."

Lucina raised her eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"Why do you try so hard to save _me_? Why do you put any trust in me whatsoever, knowing what you know?"

"...I will confess that you still make me uneasy at times. And I will not deny that I occasionally question your intentions. But I do not think you to be evil. Once I came to believe that you did not desire the cruel fate that had been handed down to you, I realized that you might have been just as much a victim as my father was."

Robin snorted. "For a "victim", he packs a mean right hook. Speaking of which, I'm surprised you didn't try to breakup our fight."

"I nearly did, before I realized there was no malice in it. I don't understand it entirely, but Owain and Inigo often had similar fights in my time. You and Father fought because each of you was concerned about the other's wellbeing. Is that not so?"

Robin looked away, scratching his chin. "Erm... Well, yeah, something to that effect, I suppose..." He sighed loudly. "Your father can be such an idiot sometimes... Never mind _me_ killing him, he's going to get himself lodged on some soldier's lance at this rate..."

Lucina stiffened. Robin looked up.

"Ah, right, you don't do jokes. My bad." He smiled. "I promise you, I'm not going to let Chrom get killed. One way or another, the two of us will see to that."

Lucina's eyes widened a bit as she looked at the sincere expression.

"...Yes, we will." Then her eyes drifted up to Robin's black eye. She gasped.

"Oh, I had forgotten. You've not had anyone treat your injuries. Hold on a moment; I'll return shortly." Before Robin could reply, she had ducked out from under the tent. Robin blinked a moment, then flopped down on his cot. He stared at the ceiling.

"..."Victim", huh?"

* * *

When Lucina came back, she was carrying a small stave. She knelt in front of Robin and began to inspect his black eye.

"You can use healing magic?" Robin asked in surprise.

"Not well, but I am able. Aunt Lissa taught me some before she..." She coughed, then looked away. "Anyone who had any sort of talent at all for the skill learned it in my time."

They were silent for some minutes as Lucina focused on her work. Her channeling of magic was clumsy, which Robin didn't find all that surprising given how extreme her physical capabilities were.

"Say, Lucina."

She glanced up, but tried to keep her mind focused on her work. "Yes?"

"Tiki wasn't really involved with the Valm war during your time, correct?"

"I find it unsettling how accurately you are able to discern these things..."

He shrugged. "It's not that hard. I figure that you would've mentioned something if she had been a pivotal figure, is all."

"...And if I had said she was, would you have changed your mind?"

"No. Circumstances are different. Relying on knowledge of events that happened in a completely separate context would probably hurt more than it would help. Further, no offense, but your knowledge of that conflict has to by nature be imperfect."

"Then why ask?"

"The perspective is valuable, is all."

"...Could it be that you are just searching for reassurance that you are making the right choice?"

"..."

No more words were exchanged until Lucina had finished the healing. Robin couldn't help but reflect that if their roles were reversed, he would never have been doing this; Lucina was putting herself at risk being so close to him in a manner that gave her little defense should he suddenly draw a knife or something of the sort.

 _I suppose that simply means she's a better person than I am_ , Robin mused.

When the healing was finished, Robin stretched and flexed, inspecting his body for any lingering soreness. Though it had taken some time, Lucina had done quite a good job.

"I'm going to go check on Father now," she said as she moved towards the exit.

"...Hey, Lucina."

Lucina paused and turned back to him.

Robin stiffened, then looked away, his cheeks slightly flushed. "...Thanks."

She smiled a faint smile, then took her leave.

* * *

In the end, they abandoned the idea of heading towards the Mila Tree. The next day at the following war council, Robin had laid out his newest plan: Take advantage of Walhart's roaming tendencies, head straight for the relatively unguarded imperial capital, dodging all three divisions as best they were able, seize it, and then set a trap for Walhart. If they could kill him, the war was as good as won; Walhart was the sphere of influence around which everything revolved. The leaders, including Say'ri, had all agreed to it, though Say'ri had continued to glare daggers at Robin throughout the course of the meeting. Chrom and Robin had said little each other during that time.

The new plan still called for them to go through Wyvern Valley, as the path to it let them keep a good berth from Cervantes's division, and the natural canyon would deposit them onto a path that would hopefully allow them to bypass both Cervantes and Yen'fay before either could catch up.

The Ylissean League marched for three days before the next incident occurred.

* * *

The bandit Gecko sat on top of an overturned cart, running a few coins through his fingers. The caravan had been pathetic; just a bunch of clerics with barely any spoils. The men had all gone down with hardly a fight, and there hadn't been any woman. _Some sort of pilgrimage?_ he wondered.

"I almost feel bad for them," the wiry man chuckled. "Walhart's hard enough on the Naga-worshippers as is without us piling onto their troubles." He paused a moment, straining his ears, then quietly put the coins into his pocket before hopping off the cart. He walked over to another toppled cart, listening intently. His men, who had been in various stages of looting, looked at him curiously. Gecko surveyed the cart for a moment, then abruptly reached down and tore the cloth curtain from the window. A woman inside shrieked, and scrambled out of the sideways front exit. Gecko casually reached over and grabbed her by the hair, then threw her against a nearby tree. The woman crumpled to the ground, stunned. He smiled cruelly. It seemed the attack hadn't been a waste after all.

The woman stirred, then screamed and crawled backwards until her back was against the tree, chest heaving in panic as her eyes darted from man to man. A bandit crouched down before her, chortling as he ran his tongue over a cracked tooth. "Hey boss, can I have this one?"

"She'd fetch a decent bit on the slave trade," Gecko replied, stroking his thin brown goatee. "Take her if you wish, but know that it'll cost you a month's share."

The man grinned. "Works for me." He reached out a meaty hand to the woman, who was incoherently crying from fright now.

"Hey now, easy there love. I ain't gonna hurt you." He smiled savagely. "Well, actually, that there's a lie, but I'll be sure and see that you- _GAH!_ "

A plume of red sprayed from where the bandit's right arm had once been, and the severed appendage went wheeling through the air before it landed with a dull thud. He screamed and sunk to his knees, clutching the bleeding stump. A young man with black hair and a yellow myrmidon's outfit stood over him. Where he had appeared from, none present knew. One of his hands gripped a worn Killing Edge, and the other theatrically hovered over his face. "If you treasure your life, then back away from this woman," he said boldly.

" _You bastard!_ " The bandit shrieked, moving to pull out his axe with his remaining hand, but the swordsman quickly cut the man's throat before he could do anything.

The swordsman turned to the woman, hand still covering part of his face."Fear not, fair maiden! Your savior has appeared! Now make haste, and flee as quickly as your legs can carry you! I shall deal with these cutthroats!" The woman stared at him wide-eyed, rooted to the spot. He raised an eyebrow. "Well? Get going!" The woman jumped a bit, then gathered her wits and ran desperately away.

Gecko stared at the swordsman with a confused look. "And just who the bloody hell are you?"

"I am justice bound by no fate! I am righteous steel and hope for all life! I am Owain, Wanderer of Aeons!" Each of these statements had been accompanied by a different pose.

The bandits stared at him incredulously for a moment, then their leader shook his head and sighed.

"I, Gecko, am going to be a warlord some day. I don't have time to play make-believe with brats." He turned to one of his larger men, a hulking mountain of muscle. "Kill him." The axeman chuckled and strode confidently over to Owain, whipping his weapon high.

"Try wandering in hell instead!" he shouted before bringing his axe crashing down.

Owain stepped slightly, but just enough, to the right and flicked his wrist. Axe and sword reflected each other in their surfaces for a moment as they passed parallel, one cleaving through air and the other through flesh. Then the bandit screamed and toppled over backwards, writhing in a growing pool of his own blood before he became still. His axe was embedded in the ground an inch from Owain's foot. His comrades were startled into inaction by this; the man had been nearly twice Owain's size, and not a one of them had expected the swordsman to stand a chance, let alone kill him in a single stroke.

Owain casually stepped around the body, positioning himself directly across from Gecko. "I do not take a life lightly," he said, voice unusually somber. "Few understand better than I their worth. But villains like you, who don't understand how precious a human life is... No, who couldn't care less about them... I won't forgive any of you! I will cut each of you down, to the last!" he shouted.

With this Owain charged toward Gecko, Killing Edge held low. "Feel the wrath of my Sword Hand!" he bellowed. Gecko immediately dropped into a combat stance and drew his own sword as Owain rapidly closed the gap between them, readying to strike.

" _Path of...!_ " Owain screamed intensely.

He lashed out, his blade a blur.

" _Radi-_ "

Gecko diverted the attack with a quick parry.

" _-anceeeee..._ " Owain trailed off weakly. He yelped as he was forced to leap backward to avoid a riposte. Realizing that he was about to be hemmed in by the now attentive bandits, and having this point accentuated by a narrowly-avoided axe-swing, Owain continued to dance backward until he had his back away from all of the men.

"Hrmm... You're more skilled than I had anticipated, I'll grant you that," Owain said, posing with his free hand once more covering part of his face. "Ordinarily, it would be foolhardy for even one such as I to challenge you while you have so many followers at your side. _However..._ I still have my most special technique! Prepare yourselves!"

Owain shifted his stance, and his eyes seemed to radiate power. Gecko cocked an eyebrow.

A beat passed, then Owain turned and sprinted away, quickly vanishing from sight as he fled into the woods.

Gecko and his bandits stood there for a few moments before they understood that they had just been played. "Ugh! After him, you idiots!" Gecko snarled.

* * *

The Ylissean League was quite some distance from where Owain was at that moment. Robin was reading a book on horseback when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked up to find Chrom beside him.

"Hey," Chrom said quietly.

"...Hey."

Chrom rubbed the back of his head. "Look, Robin, I'm um... I'm sorry for hitting you like I did."

Robin snapped the book shut and dropped it in his saddle-pouch. "I had it coming, I suppose. And for my part, I'm sorry for those things I said about your mother. I'm sure she was a nice lady."

"All in the past. But if you say that thing involving a pegasus and a griffon about her again, then I really will kick your teeth in."

"Understandable."

They looked at each other for a moment, then both laughed.

"We can be pretty stupid sometimes, huh?" Chrom grinned. Robin smiled broadly and was about to respond when his eyes went wide as he stared at something in the distance. Chrom looked at him confusion, then followed his gaze. His own grin abruptly disappeared as well.

* * *

Owain stopped running for a moment and slouched against a tree.

"Guh..." He clutched at his side, where a shallow cut from an axe was still seeping blood. A stab wound from a mercenary's sword in his left shoulder was paining him as well, but thankfully it hadn't interfered with his swordplay. Owain took a few moments to catch his breath, then took off again.

It had simply been coincidence that he had stumbled upon the bandits. Whether they were actively seeking out the sages who lived nearby or were simply passing through, he couldn't tell, but at least they didn't seem familiar with the area, giving Owain a much-needed advantage.

 _I've taken out five more of them... These woods are good for ambushes. But there are still quite a few of those marauders left, and now there are even some wyverns flying overhead... Those are going to be a problem... Not to mention that Gecko bastard... But gods, where in blazes do bandits like these get godsdamned wyverns?!_

* * *

"Hey there, Lucina!" Lissa exclaimed cheerfully.

Lucina smiled. She hadn't realized she had been riding so close to family. "Oh! Hello, Aunt Lissa. How are you today?"

"Good, good! How about you?"

"I'm doing well." She turned to look at the autumn leaves lining the trees. "I was admiring the colors of autumn just now. Before coming to this era, I could scarce remember such vibrant hues."

"Hmm. Hey, speaking of the future, I have kids, right?"

Lucina blinked. "Forgive me, but I don't wish to divulge unnecessary information that might influence how this point in your life plays out."

"Oh, come on! I'm already married to Lon'qu! What could you possibly change now?"

"Well..."

"Please?"

"...Alright. You have a son named Owain."

"That's so cool! What's he like?" Lissa asked excitedly.

"He's..." Lucina frowned, unsure how to describe Owain's eccentricities to someone who had never met him before. Her eyes flitted up to the fall leaves. She smiled as a thought occurred to her.

"He's very... _colorful_."

""Colorful"? Like he was weird hair or something? ...Lucina? Lucina, are you ok? What are you looking at? And why are you sweating like that all of a sudden?"

* * *

Owain breathed a sigh of relief as he rubbed his healed midriff. He had been right to retreat to the hamlet rather than try to stick it out with his injuries. "My thanks, Melchior."

Finished with the axe wound, the sage had now moved to Owain's shoulder to begin working on the injury there, stave aglow. "It is I who should be thanking you, my young friend. Though we three who live here are sages, we are pacifists unversed in tomecraft. If not for your aid, I fear we would already be under the heel of those brigands you spoke of."

"Or under the ground," another sage, Gaspar, added.

"But what do bandits want with you guys?" Owain asked, brow furrowed in thought. "Could they be after the legendary Mystletainn?!"

"As we have told you _many_ times," the third sage, Belthasar, said, somewhat exasperated, "Mystletainn is not in our possession. It's a common mistake, but the sword we have is nothing special. It was made by a somewhat skilled but unrenowned blacksmith."

"Mhmm..." Owain was clearly skeptical.

"Perhaps the bastards are after our star charts," Gaspar muttered.

"They would do them little good," Belthasar murmured. "I doubt they would even fetch much coin on the markets."

"I absolutely can't allow them to have those!" Owain exclaimed decisively. "My mission depends on it!"

"Are you really going to fight them all on your own, though?" Gaspar asked. "We can still flee, you know."

Owain nodded resolutely. "Of course! How could I turn tail and abandon you all after everything you've done for me? I was half-dead when you three found me, and I'd have been completely lost without the knowledge you shared with me." He grinned impudently. "And besides, you still haven't bequeathed Mystletainn to me yet!"

"Oh for the love of-" Gaspar began before Melchior cut him off with a raised hand.

"If you truly believe that you can defeat them, then we will trust in you. We will wait here in case you need further healing. Do not be afraid to fall back to this place if you become injured again. But before you go, you should take this." Melchior walked over to a chest and opened it, withdrawing a long, thin object wrapped in cloth. He handed it to Owain, who hastily unwrapped it."

"It's nothing much, but the wards we've placed on it should help you-"

"Mystletainn!" Owain exclaimed gleefully. "At long last! So you did have it after all, and were simply testing me! Well fear not, friends, for I shall put this holy weapon to fitting use and smite the wicked who plague this fair hamlet!" He dashed out the door before the sages could say anything in response.

"W-wait, young friend that is not-...!" Melchior sighed and slouched his shoulders, for Owain was already long gone. "Hopefully he'll figure out that that is not Mystletainn on his own," he groaned.

Gaspar snorted. "Unlikely."

Belthasar chuckled. "Well, perhaps it would be better if he labored under that delusion for a while longer. It's been some time since he looked so lively."

"He's _always_ lively," Gaspar growled. "And another thing, Melchior! Why do you keep calling him "young friend"? We're not old at all! We can't be more than ten years his seniors!"

Gaspar waited for a response, then frowned and turned to his friend when he found one wasn't forthcoming. Melchior and Belthasar were staring up at black storm clouds.

"A fell darkness is approaching," Belthasar whispered.

"So the weather's taken a turn for the worse, what's so-" Gaspar paused mid-query, eyes bulging as he stretched his fingers into the air. " _...Oh._ " He swallowed nervously. "Perhaps we had best lock the doors, friends."

* * *

"Chrom, I'm not seeing things, right?" Robin asked.

"No, I see them too..." he muttered grimly.

Obscured by the trees of the forest, hundreds of living corpses lumbered through the woods.

"Godsdammit, what the hell are Risen doing all the way out here in Valm?!"

"I don't know," Chrom replied. "But we have to do something about them. We're close to some villages."

Robin frowned. "Given our circumstances I would normally say we need to keep moving and ignore them. But these are Risen. Bandits at least would have the good sense to stay as far away from us as they could, but Risen will chase us down no matter what."

"So we should finish them off now before they become a problem," Chrom concluded.

Robin was already signaling formations with his hands.

* * *

"Halt, villain!" Owain cried as he leapt out of some undergrowth. Gecko wheeled around to face him. Owain had chosen this moment carefully—Gecko only had two bodyguards at present. It had taken some time for Gecko's group to disperse, but the thick tangle of the forest had eventually forced it to happen. Owain's patience had been rewarded with as a clear a shot at taking out Gecko as he was likely to get. The underlings were a problem, but he was sure the power of Mystletainn would more than make up for that.

"What? You came back?" Gecko asked in disbelief. "Are you completely lacking in wits? Do you fancy yourself some hero out of a ballad, boy?"

""Ballad"?" Owain questioned.

"You don't know what a ballad is? Were you raised under a rock?"

"...Something like that." Owain readied himself to attack, but paused.

A sound that was all-too-familiar to Owain began to echo throughout the woods, and he felt his gut clench up as the bandits looked around in confusion.

 _There's no way._

Burning red eyes illuminated the shadows of dusk. Mottled purple flesh bobbed through the black as an army of the dead trudged toward the men.

"It can't be..." Owain breathed. "Risen?! Why here? Why _now_?!"

"What the hell are those things?!" one of the bandits screamed. The other turned ran away. He was immediately beset upon by Risen approaching from their rear, and was cut down within moments. Gecko scowled, then turned back to Owain.

...A thought occurs to me, whelp. Perhaps it would be best we put aside our differences until these _things_ have been dealt with."

"I'll confess to having a similar idea..." Owain agreed, taking a stance alongside his enemy.

* * *

Robin considered the League fortunate. While the number of Risen wasn't insignificant, they were lacking both in the quantity and quality necessary to make them a true threat to the main army. That said, entangling the army in the dense forest was a poor idea, so Robin had ordered the main forces to continue marching while he dispatched the Shepherds to clear off the Risen. The battle was progressing favorably; they were pushing ever deeper into the forest, and while more and more Risen continued to appear, they were weak and put up little resistance. Falchion whistled past his head as Lucina decapitated an undead barbarian, and off to his side, Say'ri cut down Risen after Risen.

There was a flash of red, and it took Robin a moment to register that its hue did not belong to a Risen's eyes. Rather, it was the hair of Cordelia, who was running towards him, Frederick trailing close behind. Their daughter was noticeably absent.

"Robin! Severa's gone! We got separated by Risen and I lost sight of her!" Cordelia seemed nearly frantic with worry. Frederick was more composed, but the tautness of his neck muscles revealed his inner turmoil.

Lucina stiffened with alarm at the news, while Robin scowled and bit his thumb. Say'ri continued to keep the Risen at bay. "Cordelia, go get your pegasus and scout the area. You might be able to catch sight of her from the air. But do _not_ get distanced from the main forces. I know it's difficult, but don't go chasing after her even if you find her. Report to me instead so that I can organize a proper rescue party."

"But she's all alone!" Cordelia cried.

Robin grimaced. "We're not in a position where we can help her right now. She's spent most of her life dealing with Risen, and probably much stronger ones than this rabble." To accentuate his point, he blew away a Risen archer with a burst of lightning magic. "All we can do right now is have faith in her abilities." His gaze became more stern. "You have your orders. Go."

Cordelia looked torn, and turned to Frederick searchingly. Behind his back, Frederick tightened his grip on his arm audibly, but nodded in a barely perceptible manner. The two ran off towards the main army. Lucina watched them go.

"You're concerned?" Robin asked.

"Of course. But Severa is not the type to die easily. As you said, all I can do right now is have faith."

"I just know that when we find her she's going to give me an earful about faulty tactics or some shit like that," Robin grumbled.

* * *

In contrast to Severa, Owain had wound up cut off from his enemies. He had lost track of Gecko a while ago, much to his annoyance.

He hated fighting Risen. They were an audience unable to appreciate his theatrics.

"Evil creatures, return to your eternal rest! _Sacred-_ "

Too caught up in his performance to notice it, Owain slipped on a pool of black blood and fell face-first, his Killing Edge and "Mystletainn" tumbling out of his grasp as he landed hard. He cursed and scrambled to his feet. Risen were bearing down on him, and for a moment Owain thought that he was in a serious bind.

Then in a blur of light that Owain recognized as the Galeforce magic, a figure danced between the Risen, cutting each down in an instant. The light faded, revealing a young woman holding a thin steel sword.

The girl flicked first her blade, clearing it of congealed black blood, then her hair, done up in brown twintails. If being all on her own had given her trouble, she wasn't showing it. She turned to look at Owain, an annoyed look on her face.

"Idiot! What the hell do you think you're doing?! If I hadn't-" The woman's words died in her mouth, and she stared in shock at the swordsman. "...Owain?"

"S-Severa?!" A massive grin spread across Owain's face before he ran over and gripped her in a tight hug. "It really is you! I can't believe it!"

Severa stiffened in his embrace and seemed paralyzed for a moment, but then quickly stirred and began writhing in his grasp. "G-get _off_ you idiot!" she screamed as she pushed Owain away. "Gods, wh-who told you could touch me?!" she barked, her cheeks a deep crimson.

"Ah, s-sorry," Owain said has he looked away. "It's just, I thought... I was beginning to think I might be the only one who made it... I'd been here nearly a year, and I hadn't found any of the others..." He looked up suddenly. "Oh! Are they with you?"

Severa blinked in surprise, then nodded. "A whole lot of us are here with Lucina... and our parents."

Owain stared at her a moment, then dashed past her without a word, reaching down and scooping up his swords as he ran.

"H-Hey! Owain, get back here, you dumbass! I know you want to see them, but this place is crawling with Risen!"

"All the more reason to be by parents' side! My Sword Hand guides me to them in this perilous hour!"

"They're with the rest of the Shepherds! They'll be fine!"

He skidded to a halt. "Ah... right. Indeed, there are others in more dire need of my aid. It wouldn't do to let the hospitality of the sages be stained by their own blood... Very well then! Come! I, Owain Darkbright, the Scion of Legend, shall smite these fell beasts with the help of the radiant Severa!"

""Darkbright"?" Severa questioned as the two began to run towards a small group of Risen. "Gods, you are such a tool. And who the hell do you think you are, making me your sidekick?!" She gave him a sideways glance. "Y-you could say more things about me being radiant though..."

* * *

Robin, Lucina, and Say'ri stood on the edge of a clearing. Three small houses dotted the open meadow.

"What the hell is this place? Robin wondered aloud. "It's not on the map..."

"A hidden village?" Lucina asked as she sliced through a Risen myrmidon.

"There are tales of sages who live in these woods," Say'ri said as she cut down a Risen mage. "Mayhaps these dwellings belong to them?"

"Hmm. Fortunate for them that we stumbled upon this place, then," Robin noted, incinerating a Risen cavalier.

Robin raised as his eyebrows as he realized a figure was approaching the middle of the hamlet, in a pace too slow and deliberate for the mindless Risen. And yet his skin crawled, for the person had eyes of glowing red and mottled purple skin nonetheless.

 _That Risen... It's not like the others._

* * *

At this time, Owain and Severa had arrived at the hamlet on the opposite end of where Robin, Lucina, and Say'ri now stood. They too were staring at the mysterious figure in the center.

"H-Hey Owain?" Severa asked a bit uneasily. "Does that Risen over there look a bit... _familiar_ to you too?"

"Familiar...?" Owain murmured. His eyes suddenly jolted wide in shock. "Impossible... It can't be!

* * *

"That face... Those blades... This is impossible. That is the Jade Empress!" Say'ri breathed in disbelief. "But she has been dead for centuries...!"

"How... How can this be?," Lucina asked. "She shouldn't exist yet in this era!"

"Unbelievable... They're supposed to be nothing more than myths..." Robin muttered. "Is it really her?"

Robin turned to Lucina. "The Deadlord..."

"Simia," she finished.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Sorry that this chapter took so long! It ended up being longer than everything that came before it, so hopefully the wait was worth your while.**

 **Also, for any of you Final Fantasy V fans out there, please be sure to check out my new fic, _Home, Sweet Home_!**


	4. Scion of Legend II

A man who looked rather like a toad with appalling fashion taste and a man who seemed to be borne from shadows walked together under the pale moonlight. The wider man sauntered as if the entirety of the forest was his own personal backyard, while the taller man's movement was so controlled and refined that it was almost as if he was gliding. Around them, Risen shambled through the dense foliage, but neither paid them any mind.

"Eeheehee... It's simply delicious irony, is it not, my dear sweet Porcus?" the fat man asked.

Porcus said nothing.

The man continued unperturbed. Frankly, he hated it when other people thought that they had things worth saying. "I once offered the fools in that hamlet the _honor_ of me becoming their master. And they refused! Laughed even! Can you believe something so ludicrous?!" he seethed.

"Easily," Porcus smirked.

The fat man scowled. "Watch your tongue, corpse! Do you have any idea how many methods I have at my disposal that can make you suffer?"

The Deadlord simply chuckled. Then his eyes darted to the man, blazing fiercely. "Try... them, then..."

The fat man glowered at him for a moment more, but then, in an instant, as if he had suddenly switched out a pair of masks, wore a cheerful veneer. He smiled so broadly that one could count all of his teeth. "Forgive me, dear friend. I do lose my temper at times." If his tone had a taste, it would have been of rotten fruit. "But anyway, those idiots will get what's coming to them tonight. They'll lament the day they spited my charity! Eeheeheehee! And my lovely Say'ri is in for such a treat!"

"You... refer... to Simia...?"

"Ugh, dear Porcus, can you not speak a tad faster? Your faculties should be fully under your control by now." Valm's tactician brought his hands up to his face gleefully, painted nails and gaudy rings gleaming in the moonlight as he drummed his fingers against his cheeks in anticipation. "But my oh my, am I ever so excited! The Chon'sin adore the dead almost as much as the Grimleal do! For Say'ri to be pitted against her kin... If she were to be slain by her own venerable ancestor... Oh, it gives me such a warm, tingly feeling! You know, traditionally, you should be paired with Canis, my dear Porcus, but I simply could not pass up such a delightful opportunity! And I wouldn't even be breaking my pact were Say'ri to die at Simia's hand, not truly! Eeheeheehee!" He put his hand to his brow in mock distress. " _Oh, forgive me, Yen'fay! I could do nothing about the plague of the undead that so suddenly appeared! I, the great Excellus, tried oh so valiantly to save your sister, but alas, she was cut down, like a maiden in one of your country's barbarous tragic plays_! Eeheeheehee!"

"You talk big... For someone borrowing his power..."

"Silence!" Excellus snapped. "It matters not who summoned you! _I_ am your master!

Porcus sneered. "Puppets... should not look down on other puppets."

" _I_ am the one pulling the strings here, fool!" Excellus growled. "I'll take the thrones of both Valm _and_ Plegia for myself! I'll use any means I'm given!" He wheeled around. "That woman, Aversa, actually thinks she can outwit me? Absurd! Oh, and that brat of a "Grandmaster"...! Plegia's precious child! The terms of the agreement said that I was to deliver him alive, but they didn't say in what condition! Eeheeheehee! I'll show him how a _real_ tactician does thin- GYAAH!"

Excellus froze short, for Porcus had suddenly lunged forward and grabbed the bulbous man's tongue in his hand. Porcus stared at him with cold eyes that radiated hatred. "Slime like you... who throw away anything... and anyone... to get ahead... do not deserve... that title... Call yourself "tactician"... in my presence again... and I'll tear out this tongue. Of course... you are already quite used... to having body parts removed, yes? ...Ehehehehe..."

Excellus was trembling now, eyes bulging with fright. Porcus gave a look of utter contempt. He released the man's tongue, then turned and walked away. "Yes... scum like you... besmirch _her_ name... by donning that title..."

Excellus was hacking and spitting, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "B-Bastard! Where do you think you're going?!"

"To carry out... your orders, of course... Off to kill... the scions of the Hero-King..." He stopped still for a moment. He began to chuckle quietly, which quickly escalated into howls of laughter.

"Ahahahaha! Now _that_ is irony!" he exclaimed, his shark-like teeth on full display as he grinned like a madman, dark blue hair framing his burning red eyes.

* * *

Simia sighed to herself. This was pathetic. She was a warrior, proud and regal. She should be dueling and besting the Ylissean Exalt at this moment, and yet here she was, about to kill a lot of cowards because her master couldn't control his pettiness. She shook her head in disgust. This kind of business should have been right up Porcus's alley, so why was she the one forced to dirty her hands on these weaklings?

Simia growled and looked up at the night sky. She paused a moment, realizing that the moon had been just as bright and full on the night she died. A phantom pain flared in her breast a moment, and she reached up to touch a hole that was not there. The sensation passed quickly though as Simia became more and more enraptured by the moon. Unbidden, a poem spontaneously sprang to her tongue.

 _"Gleaming eye of night / Staring at fields of slaughter / All lights will soon fade."_

Simia blinked, then laughed to herself. She honestly hadn't believed that she had any of her human traits left save for her mastery of the blade and her pride as a warrior. She remained where she stood. She was in no hurry; as a Risen, many of the things that had once held sway over her when she was a human were now beyond her. But no one could keep her from savoring the moon and the stars. And if the sages became bold enough to poke their heads out from their shelter, then those would readily be removed from their shoulders. She began to hum one of her favorite melodies from ages past, regretting that she did not have an instrument to play on.

She abruptly stopped, then laughed at herself in exasperation. "Pretending to be human is folly. Many generations have passed since this Simia's death."

She contemplatively stared at the sky once more, and a faint smile played on her lips.

 _But that is not to say a corpse cannot appreciate beauty._

* * *

"She's stopped moving..." Lucina murmured.

"Simia, the ninth Deadlord. Usually female, and always a master of the sword," Robin recited from memory. "But what is she doing in a place like this?"

"She must intend the sages harm!" Say'ri concluded.

"But why would a Deadlord care about them? No, rather, why would whomever's controlling a Deadlord use it for something like this?" Robin asked. "No semblance of stealth, standing out in the open, so close to us... Perhaps she's a decoy? Or maybe she _is_ meant to kill the sages, while we're tied up dealing with-" Robin stopped abruptly. "... _Shit_. Simia is the _ninth_ Deadlord, out of twelve! There could be at least three more in this forest!"

"But if that's the case, then their real target-" Lucina stiffened. " _Father!_ " she cried before suddenly sprinting back towards the other Shepherds they had left behind.

"Hey, hey, wait a minute!" Robin shouted after her, but she was already out of sight. "Don't go running off alon- Ugh!" He slammed his fist against a tree. "Godsdammit!" He turned to Say'ri. "Sorry, but Chrom takes priority over those sages. We're going after Lucina."

Say'ri shook her head. "Nay. I shall deal with the Jade Empress. You do as you must."

"Hey, I think I have a better idea! How about you _not_ fight the super-strong murder-zombie all by yourself!"

"It is only fitting that I be the one to return her to her rest."

"Deadlords are worth entire armies. You'll be killed," Robin said flatly.

"Then I die with honor," Say'ri said resolutely.

Robin clutched his skull, grinding his teeth. "You understand I can't back you up here, right? If Chrom falls, we're done for. I _have_ to make sure he doesn't have _three_ of those things up his ass right now!"

"As I said, do what you must."

"Gah! What is it with you women?! Did you and Lucina decide together that tonight was "Make Robin's Life as Difficult as Humanly Possible Night"?!" He sighed heavily and scratched the back of his head. "...I'll try to send reinforcements to you. Hold out for as long as you can. Kite Simia away from the sages and keep her interest without getting too close. Understand?"

"Aye," Sayri said, eyes never leaving the Deadlord.

As Robin turned away, he knew she was lying through her teeth. Say'ri had no intention of running away. She would stand her ground and shortly thereafter die upon it. He bit the inside of his cheek in frustration as he ran, hard enough to draw blood. There was nothing he could do. Chrom was in danger. The presence of a Deadlord made it clear to him that this was no random Risen attack. It was planned, purposeful. The Ylissean League had been targeted from the start, and if that was the case, then naturally whoever was behind this was after Chrom's head. Push came to shove, Say'ri's life wasn't even close to Chrom's. All Robin could do for her now was hope that she was skilled enough to survive until help arrived.

* * *

Severa peeked out from behind a tree trunk. "Why the hell is that Risen just standing there?" she muttered. "Gods, she is so creepy."

"I doubt we can count on her being so accommodating as to stay rooted to that spot all night," Owain said, beginning to walk towards the Deadlord.

Severa reached out and grabbed Owain by the arm. "Hold on a second, dumbass! That's Simia! She's a Deadlord! You know you can't take her on!"

"Am I supposed to just sit back and let my friends die, then?!" Owain growled.

"Better than _you_ dying!" Severa hissed.

Owain paused a moment, then grinned. "Why, Severa, I didn't think you cared!"

"Wh-wha-?!" she stammered, caught off-guard. Owain didn't notice the red on her cheeks, though, because he had taken advantage of her moment's lapse in concentration in order to slip out of her grasp.

"Fear not. I'll show you just how strong I've become. With this Mystletainn, I'll defeat that abomination. I, Owain Dark-... Huh?"

Severa noticed too. A lone woman had walked out into the meadow, coming within ten feet of the Deadlord. The resemblance between the two was uncanny, from their faces, to their builds, to their hair, to the swords strapped to their waists.

"Who is that?" Severa asked.

"I don't know," Owain replied. "She's brave, though, to be approaching a Deadlord like that..." He frowned and furrowed his brow pensively.

Severa noticed that Owain had become still, watching the pair in the meadow intently. He had been about to step out from their cover, but was now pressed up against a tree trunk, peeking around it to survey what seemed about to become a battlefield. "Severa," he said quietly. "We have to help her. Even if that thing is a Deadlord, it'll still be three against one. We can take it."

Owain instinctively wheeled around as he heard the sound of a sword being unsheathed. Severa was facing away from him, having adopted a combat stance. "I think we might need to be a little bit more worried about _them_ ," she said tersely.

He didn't need to ask whom she was referring to, because a horde of Risen was bounding towards them.

Owain forced a grin as he drew his swords. "What good's a villain without minions?"

* * *

Say'ri bowed deeply, her eyes pointed toward the ground. "It is an honor to be in thy presence, O Great Jade Empress."

"Oh? You speak the Chon'sin tongue? And you know of this Simia?"

Say'ri's mouth twitched at the use of the Deadlord's title. "Aye, Lady Iza'mai. I am thy descendant from centuries after thy time, the first princess of the sixteenth clan, Say'ri."

"And?"

The Deadlord spoke as if she were dealing with an irritating child.

Say'ri looked up questioningly. ""And" what, milady?"

She was answered by the sound of swords leaving their scabbards. Say'ri had only a moment to draw her own weapons, and in a heavy clash four blades locked against each other.

"I had thought you might have something to say worth hearing. Clearly, I was mistaken," the Deadlord said coldly.

"Milady! I beg thee, fight whatever black sorcery thou art bound by!"" Say'ri shouted, arms trembling under the strain of containing the Risen's immense power. She pushed Simia away, and the two began a rapid exchange of blows, the clamor of steel echoing in quick succession. Simia was impossibly quick and strong, and it took everything Say'ri could muster to not be cut down on the spot. Fearing being overwhelmed, she created another deadlock with the Deadlord, but Say'ri could barely keep their blades pushed together.

"I am thy kin, milady! Thine own flesh and blood!" Say'ri cried.

"A corpse has no kin. If you wish to become her family, then join this Simia in death!" the Deadlord exclaimed gleefully to a wide-eyed Say'ri. She suddenly applied more force to her swords, knocking Say'ri's blades away. Simia pivoted and delivered a kick to Say'ri's now-exposed midriff, knocking her off of her feet and sending her flying through the air. The princess of Chon'sin collided with a tree, a sharp cracking sound resounding as her head struck the trunk. Say'ri dropped to the ground, vision swimming, before sinking to her knees and toppling over, unconscious.

"...Is that all?" Simia asked in disgust. She casually strolled over to Say'ri, nudging her with her foot. "...Hmph. Her swordplay was not that of an amateur. Perhaps I have simply grown too powerful?" She looked upward at the night sky. "Or mayhaps the shock of this Simia trying to kill her so earnestly was too much for her to bear?"

Simia glanced back down to Say'ri. Her eyes suddenly shone as she noticed the swords still limply held in Say'ri's grasp. "Ah...! So this is where Kiku-ichimonji and Kazekiri found themselves in this era! What fortune! And here I had feared I would be forced to humble myself with Ashura and Kotetsu for a while longer!" Simia smiled, brandishing her own swords with mild disdain. She glanced back to Say'ri's face, then flipped the sword called Ashura upside-down and held the tip over her throat. "Goodbye, pitiable daughter of mine." She raised Ashura up.

A voice rang out through the meadow. "Halt right there, foul fiend!"

Simia paused, then turned to regard the newcomer. "Who dares speak to this Simia in such a way?"

A tall young man was rapidly approaching, a much shorter young woman irritatedly following behind him. The pair stopped not ten feet from her, the man's hand obscuring part of his face as he stood in an odd pose. "I am Owain Darkbright, the Scion of Legend! I am the whispering blade, and I am your second death, fell Deadlord!" he exclaimed. His companion simply sighed and drew her sword.

Simia narrowed her eyes. She didn't know how this man knew that she was a Deadlord, and she didn't particularly care. "You are mistaken," she said as she adopted one of her preferred stances, one tailored for fighting two opponents at once.

"You are but a dead fool."

* * *

Robin was more than a tad irritated. The effects on his mood from actions by certain strong-willed women aside, the nature of this Risen attack was causing him significant concern. He had expected the Grimleal to stay out of the Ylissean's affairs during the Valmese War; it made sense for them to pit their two biggest obstacles, Chrom and Walhart, against each other and deal with the survivor afterward. If anything, the Grimleal should have been _aiding_ the Ylisseans, much like how they had oh so generously offered up their warships and treasury. After all, history had already proven once before that they could defeat Chrom. And yet, these Risen were clearly being used with the intent of causing the collapse of the Ylissean League. It just didn't add up.

 _Who is behind this? Sister, perhaps?_

Robin mentally filed away a note that Aversa being able to summon Risen would perfectly explain what had happened during the incident with Emmeryn, but that was a thought for another time. Right now he had to focus on finding and killing the caster pulling the Risen's strings. While this probably wouldn't dispel the ordinary Risen that had already been summoned, it would theoretically at least break the summoning contracts on the Deadlords and return them to dust and ash.

Frankly, Robin hoped that it wasn't Aversa doing all of this, because he did not relish the thought of having to kill the only person he could still tenuously consider family.

His thoughts were interrupted as he spotted two Shepherds up ahead. He hailed them immediately, knowing the margin of life and death for Say'ri could be as thin as a minute.

 _Assuming she hasn't already been killed, of course_ , he thought darkly.

* * *

Severa grit her teeth as her sword connected with Simia's, sending spasms up her arms. Beside her, Owain blocked the follow-up strike from Simia's other blade that would have disemboweled Severa. He grunted, straining with both hands wrapped tightly around "Mystletainn"'s hilt, before managing to knock Simia's sword away, allowing him to fire off a quick slash at the Deadlord. Simia hopped backward, dodging the attack by a hair's breadth. Severa lunged forward before the Risen's feet had even touched the ground, jabbing with a quick and powerful thrust. Simia coolly deflected it, but was once again pushed onto the defensive as Owain circled around and came at her from her side. Simia scowled and lashed out, and a blistering exchange began between Simia and the future-past children. Their blades locked once more, and for the umpteenth time they were caught in a standstill that prompted the two parties to push back and leap away from each other.

Both Owain and Severa were breathing somewhat heavily, while Simia calmly cricked her neck as if she had just gotten done warming-up. Owain was uncharacteristically silent; since their fight with the Deadlord had begun, he had not delivered a single speech, a single attack name, nor tried to use an unfamiliar dual-wielding style as he had been inclined to do against mindless Risen. This somewhat unnerved Severa; Owain's theatrics were usually used to either put his opponents off-kilter or to psych himself up, but the fact that he hadn't even tried to use any of his usual stunts indicated that he didn't believe there was even the slightest leeway for error. Of course, Severa had been able to understand that fact before she had even crossed blades with the monster, but there still seemed something profoundly wrong to her about a deathly serious Owain. She felt that she could have really used his usual exuberant self right at that moment.

Owain nudged her with his arm, causing a jolt to run through her body from the unexpected contact. He gave her a quick glance, jerking his chin towards Simia while he shifted "Mystletainn" to his left hand and drew his old Killing Edge with his right. Then he focused his gaze on the Deadlord, sinking into a crouch. Severa swallowed, but nodded; she had understood his intention.

 _"I'm going to distract her. Wait for an opening and use Luna."_

Severa dropped into a sprinter's crouch, channeling the magic of _Galeforce_ through her body and the magic of _Luna_ through her blade. Owain dashed forward as she did so, throwing himself at Simia. The Deadlord smirked, and met him with a hail of strikes. Owain grit his teeth and dug his feet into the ground, fighting furiously to keep from being overwhelmed. Simia's speed and might were incredible, and Owain was clearly in trouble, gradually being pushed back foot by foot as his defense became more and more frantic.

And still, Severa did not attack. She ground her teeth, frustrated that Owain was struggling on his own, but she knew that allowing her emotions to get in the way at such a critical juncture would prove fatal. Her timing had to be perfect, or they could both die. In truth, Severa was frightened. Scared of failing, scared of losing the person she cared for most.

Not that she would ever tell the idiot that though, of course.

Owain staggered a bit, and Simia's Kotetsu glanced off his arm, drawing a thin gash. He winced, but kicked out at her knee, causing Simia to drop a bit. Owain swung at the Deadlord's neck, but Simia managed to block the strike with Ashura and preempted Owain's follow-up strike by forcing him to block an upwards blow from Ashura. The Deadlord spun, pivoting gracefully to slash at Owain's exposed side, forcing Owain to contort oddly to guard. Simia followed through with great strength, causing Owain himself to unwillingly pivot as his blades were dragged along with hers, further exposing him. He was now badly-positioned and off-balance, and the Deadlord punished this by delivering a savage heel kick to his diaphragm. Owain was sent flying away before landing in a rough, tumbling series of skids, gagging while struggling to breathe. Had Simia pursued, it would have been almost impossible for Owain to survive.

But Severa was already in motion, rocketing towards Simia in a flash of light, sword held out like a lance. Her timing and skill were impeccable, and any onlooker would have called her attack the work of a genius. It would only take her the briefest of instants to run the away-facing Deadlord through.

And it was this moment that Simia had been waiting for. With a gleam in her eyes she suddenly wheeled about, blades crossed in front of her. The tip of Severa's sword collided with those of Simia's, sparks flying as Simia strained to repel the piercing strength of _Luna_. For a second, Simia was pushed back, gritting her teeth as her swords trembled. But then, with a mighty heave, Simia knocked the strike away, her swords held out like wings as the light of Severa's magics scattered like parting mists. Severa gaped in horror, unable to believe what she was seeing. Her strongest attack had just been brushed aside like it was nothing. The Deadlord leered at her, a feral grin playing on her lips.

A tremor of terror ran down Severa's spine, and it felt as if the entire world around her had suddenly froze. She instinctively activated _Galeforce_ again, dashing away as quickly as the magic could take her, careful to never take her eyes off the Deadlord. Simia simply stared at her a moment, then abruptly vanished in a blur of movement. Severa didn't even have time to process what she had just seen, for an instant later Simia was at her side, some fifty feet away from where they had both started. Severa felt time slow and her blood freeze in her veins as she turned to look into the Deadlord's eyes.

Simia smiled broadly, face bright with glee. "Think you to be the only one who can enhance their speed through spellcraft?! This Simia's _Pass_ is far beyond your ken, mortal!"

The two landed with skids are their respective magics dissipated, and then Severa was immediately beset upon by Simia. The ferocity of the Deadlord's strikes now made their previous confrontation seem tame in comparison, and Severa was quickly becoming panicked as she was forced to react entirely on instinct due to Simia's inhuman speed. She desperately searched for some avenue of escape, but none presented itself, and Owain was now much too far away to come to her aid in time.

A significant distance away, Owain had just gotten to his feet, still coughing sporadically. He scanned the area for Severa and Simia, having lost track of them in-between his tumbling and their lightning-fast exchange. He caught sight of them an instant before one of Simia's blades slipped through Severa's guard to hamstring her left thigh, immediately hobbling her. Owain gasped, horrified. "Severa...!" He began to move without thinking.

Now falling, Severa was consumed by the fear of imminent death. She lashed out in terror, but Simia calmly parried and then twisted the sword out of Severa's grasp, leaving her defenseless as Simia's Ashura slipped by and sliced open her side. Severa screamed in pain before colliding with the ground. Simia cackled and held Kotetsu overhead, ready to impale the prone girl. She swung down, and Severa squeezed her eyes shut, silently apologizing that she hadn't lived up to her mother's legacy and preparing to meet her in the afterlife.

And because of this, she did not see Owain instantly appear in front of her in the same blur of movement Simia had used earlier, his "Mystletainn" and Killing Edge catching Kotetsu with a loud clang. Simia's eyes widened, and she immediately leapt backwards as Owain struck out wildly, fury in his eyes. Severa cracked her own eyes slowly before they snapped open in disbelief. "O-Owain...?! How did you...?!"

Simia regarded him quietly. "That was the magic of _Pass_ just now, was it not? I had not thought you to be capable of it."

Owain grinned. "In truth, monster, I believe it was beyond me until just this moment. In your arrogance, you have awoken a slumbering demon far beyond your reckoning!" he proclaimed. Owain neglected to mention that he very much doubted that he could use the technique twice; his body had acted on instinct to reach Severa in time.

Simia shrugged. "So be it. You've merely changed the order of your execution." She dashed forward, swords angled low. Owain held his ground, and the two engaged in a blinding contest of sword-strikes. Severa gaped in amazement at the speed with which the weapons swung through the air, Owain just barely managing to keep up with the Deadlord's savage assault. But Simia was still clearly advantaged, and though Owain did not lose a single inch of footing, more and more small cuts were appearing on him as the seconds passed.

Suddenly, Severa thought she saw a flash of green. She rubbed her eyes, thinking it to be caused by her already substantial blood loss, but the light remained. She gasped as she saw a number of Owain's injuries begin to fade, and realized that the searing pain in her midriff was abating and the bleeding was slowing. Off in the distance, she could see the same light where the Chon'sinese woman had been felled. _Healing magic...? But how?_ she wondered.

"Feh! Accursed sages!" Simia seethed, glancing back at the cottages. Owain grinned, revitalized by his recovery, and began pressing harder against the Deadlord. It appeared that little by little, it was possible that Owain was somehow managing to make the fight more even. Though Simia still unquestionably held the edge in speed and strength, it was almost as if Owain was gaining a prescience of sorts, his swords coming to meet Simia's almost at the moment that her movements began.

Severa struggled to get on her feet, but her left leg still refused to comply with her demands. She cursed, sinking back down. All she could do right now was wait for the sages' healing to enable her to stand again. Until then, she could only contain her frustration at being unable to help.

* * *

Simia grit her teeth. The boy had not been this skilled earlier, she was certain of it. And yet he was still improving at an impossible rate, so much so that Simia no longer had a monopoly on the offensive and was now being forced to counter the occasional attack.

And then the unthinkable happened. The boy jabbed unexpectedly, and his blade glanced off Simia's before slicing open her cheek, ichorous black sliding down her face. Simia went rigid and immediately disengaged, distancing herself from the strange boy. She stared at nothing in shock as she raised her hand to her cheek, wiping away a bit of her black blood. She gazed at it in disbelief. She, Simia, had been injured by this whelp?!

The man laughed boldly and loudly. "You see, Simia? I can feel my sleeping powers stirring! Mystletainn, the apocryphal brand, has chosen I, Owain Darkbright, as its rightful master!" he exclaimed as he brandished the sword that was clearly not Mystletainn. But still, Simia noticed a faint magical glow around its hilt. Her eyes widened in fury as she understood; those damned sages must have given the boy that sword. It was not this brat that challenged her, but the artifices of magicians. The blade gave the boy abilities beyond his own.

"Know your place, wretch," she hissed. "For this Simia's face to be marred by the likes of you is a laughable disgrace, and one that will not go unanswered! I will show you what a _true_ master of the blade is capable of!" She twirled her blades in practiced, ritualized movements, dropping down into an odd crouch that he had modeled off the movements of the actors in plays from her era.

"Know ye true fear. Know ye true might! Know ye true despair!" Her blades became cloaked in an eerie pale light.

* * *

Owain stiffened; his every instinct was screaming at him that something terrible was about to happen. He could practically feel the night's air around him grinding to a halt.

Simia uttered one brief word, so short and so quiet that Owain barely heard it.

" _Astra._ "

And then in a blur of motion Owain couldn't comprehend, five Simias were suddenly before him, their ten blades swinging down at his body.

The exchange ended in an instant. Before Severa could even understand what had happened, Owain went flying through the night sky, blood trailing from terrible wounds all across his body, landing with a terrible crash nearly twenty feet away.

" _Owain!_ " Severa screamed, voice hoarse with terror.

Simia rolled her neck, frowning. "My my, it would appear this Simia's technique has been diminished by the centuries. The boy managed to block more of it than this Simia expected of him. He even managed to keep his head." She suddenly grinned. "Not that it matters. He is most certainly dead all the same."

" _You bitch_!" Severa shouted, struggling to drag herself to her feet in spite of her injuries. " _I'll kill you! I swear to the gods I'll kill you!_ "

Simia just laughed. "Save this Simia the trouble and simply slit your own belly. She has no more time to waste playing with the likes of you."

Severa ignored her, crawling over to her sword. Simia sighed and shook her head. "So be it. I am not devoid of mercy. I'll send you to the grave as well." She twirled a sword and began to walk towards Severa.

There was a slight movement in the periphery of their vision, and Simia immediately froze. She turned her head. "Impossible..." she murmured.

Owain was standing up. He was teetering, covered in blood, and ready to fall over at any moment, but he was standing up all the same. Not understanding how he was still alive, Simia scrutinized the injuries that had been inflicted by _Astra_ , and realized that they each had a faint glow around him. Furthermore, every one of them had stopped ever-so precariously short of his vital organs.

"Could it be? The magic of " _Miracle_ "?" Simia asked, eyebrow raised. "How curious. I had thought it a skill that only clerics could learn."

Owain did not reply, staggering over to Severa's side as blood spilled from his mouth and wounds. The fear on Severa's face was now bordering on panic; she had never seen him so close to death before. Owain smiled, an attempt at reassurance that was undercut by more blood escaping past his lips. He turned back to Simia and brandished his blades with a flourish, but the movement lacked the emphaticism of Owain's usual gestures.

Simia regarded Owain for a moment, then sighed and shook her head. "You are foolish beyond comprehension. I thought you to be truly dead. Had you but pretended that to be the case, you might have lived through this night."

"You expect me to just leave Severa to die?" Owain asked quietly. Meanwhile, Severa herself was silently pleading for him to do just that while he still had a chance.

"Naturally. What else could you do, simpleton?"

Owain was quiet for a moment. Then he opened his mouth and began to speak mutedly. "People say that I'm a blowhard, a fool, a creep..."

Severa winced at those words, and in particular the way Owain listed the verbal abuse without a hint of anger or resentment. It would be just like him to have completely forgotten that she had once insulted him with those exact same words.

"And they may be right. Call me what you like, but... Even if I am that kind of man, I am _not_ the kind of man who could abandon her!" There were tremors in his voice now. "I will never... I will never, ever watch someone important to me die because of my own weakness ever again!"

Severa's voice caught in her throat, her eyes watering. "O-Owain...!"

"Die yourself, then, and be spared the sight," Simia sneered. She leapt forward in a blur, blades singing through the air as they bore down on Owain. He feebly attempted to raise his swords in defense, but it was clear that even if he could somehow muster the speed to catch Simia's strikes, he lacked the strength needed to repel them.

Time seemed to stop for Severa. Pale moonlight glinted off Simia's wickedly gleaming blades, and the Deadlord's eyes burned fiercer still. A trickle of blood snaked down Owain's chin. Severa opened her mouth to scream.

But the sound that echoed throughout the meadow instead was the clash of steel against steel. Severa stared in disbelief, for Owain could not have possibly defended against Simia's unworldly attack.

And indeed, he had not. A man who was a head and a half taller than Owain, but whose head bore the same-colored hair as his, stood between him and the Deadlord. Three Killing Edges were locked against each other, metal twivering as the two wielders pushed against each other. The unusually tall man glanced at Owain and Severa, regarding them coolly. His gaze settled on Owain in particular.

"Hmph... Well said, boy. I seem to recall making a similar vow in my own youth."

Owain could barely speak through his shock. "F-Father...?"

Lon'qu gave a heave, forcing Simia to jump backwards. The Deadlord hopped to a halt, sizing up the newcomer from a safe distance.

A blue light suddenly appeared around him, and and one around Severa as well. Their wounds immediately began to heal, the soothing radiance easing their pain. Owain and Severa looked confusedly about for the source of the magic, as it was far more potent than that of the sages. They quickly noticed a young woman, perhaps Severa's age, giving them a kind smile as she trotted up to them, a stave grasped in each hand. Severa thought that she had seen this woman somewhere before, but she couldn't quite place where or when.

Owain, however, had no such doubts. He swallowed, blinking back tears. But it was a useless effort, and they began to spill down Owain's face. "Mother...!"

Lissa's eyes went wide. ""Mother"...? Then you must be Owain, right?"

Owain swallowed wordlessly and nodded. Lissa stared at him a moment, then began to laugh, leaning in and gripping him in a tight hug. "You're Owain! That's great! You grow up to be so brave and strong! And is this your girlfriend? She's so pretty! Nice catch, you!" she grinned, playfully giving Owain a light punch on the shoulder.

Owain and Severa both went red in the face, but before either could say anything there was another resounding cry of metal, followed by more and more in quick succession. Lon'qu and Simia were like a hurricane, rapidly stepping to and fro across the battlefield as they exchanged strike after strike.

Owain grabbed Lissa by the shoulder. "Mother, we need to escape! Even Father can't match that abomination!"

Lissa shook her head. "Have some faith. Your father's strong. He won't lose to that thing."

Owain was beginning to look frantic. "You don't understand! I won't have him die for me, not again! Simia is-"

He was interrupted by a loud cracking noise. Simia staggered away from Lon'qu, clutching at her bleeding and shattered nose. Lon'qu cooly withdrew his elbow from where it had struck her, sinking fluidly back into a stance before lashing out again. Owain gaped; in spite of the Deadlord having trampled him, Severa, and Say'ri with ease, Lon'qu was gaining an upper hand.

Lissa smiled. "See? I don't know what happened in your future, but I _do_ know what happened in your father's past. He and that Risen might as well be worlds apart. He'll win, you'll see."

Owain swallowed and nodded silently, eyes fixated on the storm raging in the Sages' Hamlet.

* * *

It didn't take Porcus long to locate the Exalt. Chrom was far from stealthy on a battlefield, a whirling dervish that cut down Risen after Risen in broad swathes. His wife fought beside him, skillfully wielding a lance as she covered her husband. For someone who had fell flat on her face three times this morning before breakfast, she was a remarkably nimble fighter on foot. Porcus silently laughed to himself as he realized they reminded him of a certain couple. Scanning the area for possible obstacles, his eyes widened as they came across a large animal that was savagely tearing Risen into pieces. Porcus was amazed; he had only caught brief glimpses of members of the Beast Tribe in life, and couldn't believe that their species had managed to survive for a millennium. What surprised him even moreso was that this being was fighting alongside humans as an equal.

He sighed inaudibly. Astounding though this discovery was, if it got in his way it would be killed, just like any other interference with his work.

The Deadlord approached them from the rear, careful to keep out of sight and downwind from the rabbit-creature, darting behind tree trunks whenever the group's attention was too focused on battle to notice. Finally finding a location he deemed to be close enough, Porcus drew a bow and deftly notched an arrow. He much preferred a straight fight, contrary to his title's expectations, but he knew better than to put pleasure before business. He took careful aim at the back of Chrom's neck; the Exalt was too busy fighting four Risen at once—and what's more, winning—to have any chance at sensing the arrow coming for him before it found its mark. Porcus drew the bowstring.

And then he paused, blinking. Something was not right. Porcus closed his eyes and reopened them. His jaw nearly dropped from shock when he had done so. A large man in full armor was standing behind Chrom, covering his back. Porcus blinked in astonishment; the man had such a total lack of presence that he had been overlooked to the point of invisibility. If Porcus had let his arrow loose just now, the General would have surely seen it coming and deflected it, ruining the chance for a quick and easy assassination.

Two bizarre existences in one night. Porcus shook his head in wonderment, but quickly refocused. He waited for an opportunity to reposition himself, careful to keep an eye on the strange armored man at all times, then rolled across the ground when the General's attention was diverted. He righted himself, verified that he could still see the bodyguard, then took aim once more.

A black arrow hissed through the night.


End file.
